


Bewitch, Ensnare

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 50,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: After the war, Hermione and Severus share a drunken one night stand. Horrified when he realises Hermione was a virgin, Snape gives her a dangerous dark artifact and disappears. An accident at the Ministry throws their lives into chaos, or so it seems. Divine Intervention is a tricky thing and what at first seems a fateful mistake might prove to actually be the correction of one.





	1. Prologue

 

**Prologue**

* * *

Lips met with a mingling of whiskey-soaked breath. Tongues danced to a tempo of rapid heartbeats. Madness, surely. The zip of her dress rasped. The pop of his buttons followed. Clothing shed to reveal flesh that seared when it met. Heat. Delicious, wicked, addictive.

_Ensnaring_.

It filled her head, clouding her alcohol fogged thoughts and pushing her to new heights like she'd never known. A mistake? Most likely. Regrets? Not a one. Not yet. The soft moan escaped her lips when strong hands gripped her arse. Squeezed. Lifted. Her legs around his bony hips felt right, sure, inescapable.

Bare flesh on naked skin, the whisper of bodies. Intimacy. Alien to her until now. At least like this.

"Are you sure?"

Silken tones. Smooth, alluring satin caressing the shell of her ear.

"Certain. Please?"

He couldn't deny her, it seemed. Unusual for so steadfast and controlled a man. She revelled in wavering it, corrupting it, unravelling his self-control until he was as hungry and horny as her. Sheets, cool against her skin and the slide of hot fingers, so sharply contrasted as they tunnelled inside her body for the first time.

She arched. Gods, but she'd _ached_ for this. Hoped. Dreamed of this moment only in the darkest of her fantasies. Liquid courage brought it to reality and she cried out for more, her fingers in the silk of his inky black hair. More. She craved it.

Heat in her blood. Delight in her chest. The hammer of her heart. The sawing of her breath as he drove her higher; his dark eyes fixed on her so intently she might've squirmed had she not craved the fullest of his attentions for longer than she could say.

"More," she begged, climbing a peak she'd never known with any but her own clever fingers.

"Soon," he promised. His voice, a caress. It haunted her nightmares and her sweetest dreams, both. It tormented her. She'd craved it.

"Please?" she whispered as her breath caught, sparkles behind her eyes. Close, now. So _close_. Just a little more… _there_.

Her soft, wanton cry spurred him forward amid her mind-jolting bliss. A bite of pain; innocence divested. The deep ache. More. Gods, please _more._

Slow as she adjusted. Faster when she begged.

Opening her eyes, Hermione watched him take her, slow and careful. Always so careful. So restrained. Too controlled. She wanted his fire. His passion. His overwhelming presence when he was at his most volatile. So rarely witnessed. She ached for it. She _would_ have it. Arching under him, her fingers tracing his scar-riddled flesh, she clenched tightly.

"Don't."

A warning. Tight, through gritted teeth. Cracks in the shield of control. Again. Clench, arch, touch. A nip to his vulnerable throat. Cursing. A good sign. One more. A long, sensual lick, collarbone to jaw. Lips traced with the tip of her tongue. There.

A foul oath and erratic thrusts. Climbing. Always climbing. Precipice. Flying, soaring.

"Severus!"

Harsh now, tight fists clenched in her unruly curls. Sharp enough to hurt but dimmed by bliss and enough liquor to land him deep inside her. Snapping hips, thrusting, straining, another oath and a low groan. That sound alone could push her over the edge all over again, she was sure.

He wasn't heavy when he collapsed on top of her, his lips dancing over her clavicle in a most delightful way. _Bliss_.

She held him to her when he made to move off, fears of crushing her plaguing him.

"Release me, Miss Granger." Stern. A command. Could she?

"Don't move," she begged. "Just… let me hold you."

"You've a mess to clean up."

Did he know? Had he realised the sweet gift she'd offered up so willingly? Wantonly?

"It will wait," she promised.

" _I_ won't. Let go, witch."

Reluctance. Would he simply walk away now? Leave her wanting more? A notch in his bedpost? She wasn't strong enough to hold him to her, nor currently coordinated enough to keep him on the bed when he pulled back.

"I hurt you," he muttered, discovering the blood. Virginal. Spilled willingly.

"You didn't," she assured. His glance at her was sharp, even to her slightly unfocused eyes.

"You were… you gave _me_ your virginity?" he asked, his voice low, suddenly furious.

Sluggish thoughts offered no explanation.

"Fuck!"

Cold glass against her swollen, blood-soaked centre. No, not glass. Silver. An orb.

"Keep this there until the bleeding stops. Never allow anyone access to it, you wretched little fool. Of all the hair-brained, dunderheaded… where is your sense?"

He continued to berate her, staring. Glaring. Leering, if the trail of his eyes over her still peaked breasts was to be taken seriously.

"You're angry," she sighed. "I thought sex was supposed to temper a man's fury, not stoke it."

"You did this intent on alleviating my fury?"

"I did this because I'd a need," she replied. A need to be free of her innocence. A need for carnal knowledge. A throbbing need, aching between her legs that had suffused her every time she'd been in his presence, in every class, every meeting, every moment they existed in the other's vicinity. Unexplained. Irrational. Foolish. Immovable.

Nothing could explain her feelings for the wretchedly cruel, dark, sinfully delicious Potions Master.

"Ah, I'm but a tool in your never-ending search for knowledge. Congratulations, Miss Granger. You've successfully gained carnal knowledge and a memory that will haunt you all your life."

Sneering. Again. Always, the sneering. Did he never tire of it?

"I imagine so. They say a girl never forgets her first love," Hermione mumbled, drunken thoughts turning into foolish words. Not the ones to be saying to Severus Snape after seducing him into bed with her.

Fear, sudden and gripping in its earnestness to find him looming over her, his nose pressed to hers, a hateful sneer on his mouth.

"You know _nothing_ if you call that wild, sloppy groping 'love'."

Chills down her spine at his sudden withdrawal. Hermione frowned at him.

"Why must you insist on pushing everyone away from you?" she demanded.

"This was a mistake." Silken words in an icy tone.

"This was a delight."

Derision. It glittered in his dark eyes and dripped from his tongue amid words he couldn't take back. The slam of a door followed. Solitude. A tight fist in her stomach to find herself alone. Hermione blinked stupidly for a long moment. Drunk. Why was she so drunk? What had she _done_?

A hiss of pain escaped her lips when she moved, the silver orb within her collecting her virgin's blood but doing nothing to stem the ache of a torn hymen. Even the alcohol fermenting in her gut could do nothing for the sudden painful wrench of her heart as it shattered.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

* * *

"You're so beautiful."

Sweet nothings uttered on hot breath that made her flesh crawl. Merlin, she loathed them. The words. The whisperers. The ones who looked at her Order of Merlin, First Class, and her double handful of NEWTs, and saw a ticket into the spotlight. Worse, the ones who saw the generous reimbursement for time and innocence lost with bright shiny galleons.

She'd so hoped that _this_ one wouldn't be another on that long list but the insincerity in his wandering hands said it all. Boredom. It suffused her being and dulled her gaze. Already she'd begun scanning, her eyes seeking out messy black hair and a dashing set of dress robes.

Harry. Mingling, as was expected.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Adrian," Hermione spoke in a waspish hiss, catching the hand dancing up her thigh.

"Sorry? What?" Adrian Pucey asked, frowning at the tight grip she had on his wrist.

She made eye contact with Harry and very deliberately traced the fingertips of her free hand down the length of her nose under the pretence of a scratch. Harry paled and made excuses to disentangle himself from his current conversation.

"Why would you be sorry that I think you're beautiful, Hermione?" Adrian persisted, oblivious to Harry's approach and her sudden frostiness. She should have paid more attention to the way he'd necked the champagne of the formal function like it was going out of fashion.

"Adrian, sorry to interrupt but I really must insist on stealing Hermione for a dance. You don't mind, do you?" Harry said, clapping a less than gentle hand upon Adrian's shoulder. "Knew you wouldn't, there's a good lad. Hermione, my favourite witch, would you do me the honour of a dance?"

"I'd begun to think you'd never ask, Harry," Hermione smiled coolly at her friend, releasing Adrian's wrist and rising to her feet.

Harry led her toward the dancefloor in silence, the musicians looking thrilled at the idea of play a tune for a dance between two of their favourite war heroes.

"What happened?" Harry asked when he had one hand on her waist, leading her about the dancefloor.

"Don't let Draco talk me into dating anymore of his colleagues," Hermione murmured through a smile pasted on for the flash of cameras. Another stir for the morning paper, undoubtedly. They never let it go that she and Harry simply _must_ be a couple. They'd no idea that when he wasn't forced into the public eye he was usually shacked up with Draco Malfoy, shagging like bunnies.

"That bad?"

"Did you know I'm beautiful?" she asked. "Particularly, my thighs."

"He was feeling you up?" Harry sighed, twisting her in a tight spin to level a glare at the wizard she'd accompanied for the evening's Ministry Gala.

"He's drunk, too," Hermione said.

"I thought Draco told me that the bastard was rich and looking to settle down?" Harry muttered.

"Oh, I'm sure he's very interested in settling. Right into my Gringott's vault with the intention to drink away all my galleons when he's not attempting to fuck the 'pretty little mudblood who scrubs up all right'."

"He called you a mudblood?" Harry's voice lowered to a dangerous growl that had been known to scare the life out of more than one photographer in the four years since the war ended.

"He didn't have to," Hermione replied. "But he apparently enjoys caressing the word where it's carved into my arm. He also used the words 'You scrub up nice' when he picked me up. At first I thought he was simply suffering the type of tactlessness we see, so often, in Ronald. But the rest of his conversation was much more eloquent."

"Fucker. But he's rich, right? Surely he doesn't only want your money."

"He wants my fame," Hermione sighed. "And I'd be willing to bet his vaults aren't as full as he'd like them to be."

"I swear, you have the worst luck with men, Hermione," Harry sighed.

"What did you expect?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Malfoy got the only decent man in the world and is getting stroppy right now at the idea of sharing."

"Don't mind him," Harry chuckled at the praise. "He's been in a strop all day. He didn't want to come out tonight. He'd been planning something for the two of us and a Ministry event threw a niffler in the works."

"Wouldn't happen to be a romantic weekend equipped with proposal, would it?" Hermione grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Draco Malfoy? Plucking up enough courage to propose? You've had too many if you're confusing him for me. He barely has the courage to ask me to sleep over, let alone to marry him."

"But if he asked?" Hermione wanted to know. "What would you say?"

"I'm sure I'd have to tell him I couldn't break your heart and leave you to the wolves," Harry smirked.

"You tease him entirely too much, Harry Potter."

"I like it when he gets extra stroppy with me. Hate-sex is _so_ much fun."

Hermione giggled.

"You're not going to ask to snog me again for the sake of seeing him throw another tantrum, are you?"

"Hey, if you'd cooperate, I'd snog you all the time just to watch that angry flush cut across his cheeks," Harry winked.

"You're incorrigible."

"Actually, a snog with you would likely do a world of good to throw the reporters off the scent about me and Draco," Harry said. He pulled her in a little closer until his cheek rested against her ear, dancing a little closer when the music changed tempo to a slower, more romantic waltzing tune.

"Or you two could just come out of the closet and admit you're together?" Hermione suggested. "You know, like completely rational and sane human beings?"

"Half the fun is in the sneaking around, love," Harry laughed. "Besides, Draco doesn't want anyone to find out until he's had a chance to word up his mother and father. And what with Lucius still in prison…"

"Lucius is a monster who will never accept the idea of you and Draco together. He wants an heir for the Malfoy fortune. And I'm terribly sorry to break it to you, Harry, but I don't think you've got the right reproductive organs."

"Yeah, well… about that…."

Hermione pulled back to look at him. He was eyeing her curiously.

"Draco's not the only one in need of an heir to carry on his name and inherit his fortune," Harry told her quietly. "I've been thinking about making Teddy my legal heir, but Andromeda won't allow it. She doesn't know about me and Malfoy, obviously, so she refuses to let me sign my fortune to Teddy when I might end up with biological kids of my own."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to it than that?" Hermione asked shrewdly, narrowing her eyes on him slightly.

"We've been… discussing the notion of…um… surrogacy. I mean obviously we can't conceive _together_ and we do both have a duty to carry on the name. Adoption was tossed up, but Draco's parents would never accept a non-biological child as Draco's heir."

Harry dipped her low, his green eyes fixed upon her face intently.

"It was Draco who suggested… you," Harry said.

Hermione wondered if her face was a mask of the shock coursing through her.

"Me? As… what?"

"Well," Harry said, righting her once more and waltzing her around the dancefloor. "I know you've expressed the notion a number of times that you don't want kids and that you aren't much interested in marriage. I… _we_ wondered if you wouldn't be agreeable to the idea of helping us."

Hermione felt a strange little flutter inside her chest.

"You want me to… mother a biological heir for you?" she asked.

"For both of us," Harry said softly. "One with me and one with Draco. He said you'd be perfect because you know about us; you don't have the impending complication of marrying anyone who might object; and you don't plan on having children of your own. It would make our kids half-siblings, one each to carry on our names, but still linked by blood. I told him I'd have to talk to you about it, in depth, and that it didn't seem fair to you. I'll understand if you say no. And we're not talking about anything immediate. This would be a long-term goal for a few years down the track. I mean, we're only twenty-two, but I thought I'd float the idea out there and…. Hermione?"

Hermione blinked stupidly. They wanted her to…

Confusion. It was thick and heady. On the one hand, she was flattered that they would ask at all, that they would consider her for such a task. On the other…

The song ended softly and Harry frowned at her worriedly for a long moment in the middle of the dancefloor. Idly, she found her hand clutching the silver orb hanging upon a short chain about her neck. Her _Tenebris Sanctus_. The magical artefact Snape had given her to collect her virgin's blood the night he'd divested her of her innocence six months after the end of the war.

She never took it off. She couldn't. It was too powerful and too dangerous an artefact to leave sitting in a drawer in her house or even inside her Gringott's vault. Containing her innocence, it was a dark artefact that could be used to hurt her should it fall into the wrong hands. The night she'd been given it flooded back to her as she stood there staring into Harry's green eyes.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. "I didn't mean to shock you or spring it on you, love. You're under no obligation…"

Hermione pressed a finger to her lips, one hand still clutching the orb. It glowed faintly with white light, her purity housed within it.

"I… we should talk about this away from prying eyes and ears, Harry," Hermione said.

She needed to think. They wanted to ask her to birth them both an heir. She'd have to sleep with them. That was… alarming. Worse, the idea sparked a buried memory of the last time she'd had sex. The night Severus Snape had divested her of her innocence and then told her what a fool she was for gifting it to him.

The night she'd…

"Right," Harry muttered. He offered her his elbow, intent on leading her off the dancefloor.

"Wait," Hermione whispered, turning slightly until she stood in front of him.

"What is it?" he asked.

Hermione stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to Harry's carefully. He blinked at her, undoubtedly feeling Draco's eyes on them. It was for the good of their relationship, Hermione knew. They weren't ready for the world to know they were mad for each other. And if they wanted to get away with each conceiving an heir with her, they'd have to do their part.

Harry's surprised lips melted against hers after a moment, his hands sliding to her waist and pressing her to him gently. He was always gentle with her. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed him. Him or Draco, in fact. The papers loved to write about them and Hermione knew the pair of wizards enjoyed the thrill of the media painting them as rivals for her heart while they boinked each other silly in private. They all often laughed about it over a glass of wine and some good, elf-made food.

"Draco's going to throw a tantrum at me," Harry muttered against her lips when he pulled back from snogging her gently, cameras flashing all around them.

"I'll snog him later to even the odds, shall I?" Hermione asked.

"Gods, please do." Harry smirked. "He fancies you, you know?"

"He does not," she muttered, her cheeks flushing.

"He does. I don't mind. I fancy you, too."

Hermione shook her head at him. She'd never understand the strange relationship between herself, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

"Do you think I've caused enough of a stir to escape?" Hermione asked.

"You can't leave, Hermione." Harry frowned.

"I need to think, Harry."

"I know, but let us help you think before you use that wicked mind to talk yourself into a panic."

He led her off the dancefloor and over towards the drinks table. As he did so, Hermione's hand still clutched her _Tenebris Sanctus_. Her eyes skittered over the crowd, picking out Ronald. His blue eyes were narrowed in anger. Ah, another complication. As though they needed more?

He was eyeing the way she and Harry walked arm in arm, Harry using his thumb to wipe her lipstick from his mouth. Ron's cheeks mottled as he stared and Hermione knew it was time to get out of there. She'd have to do the rounds and say goodbye to Ginny, Luna and Neville while avoiding Ron.

When they reached the drinks table, Harry pressed another glass of champagne into her hand.

"Do they have anything stronger?" Hermione asked, sipping from the glass and making a face. "Ron looks ready to burst a blood vessel."

Harry winced.

"Might be time for the whiskey?" he asked.

Hermione trembled at even the mention of the word. It had been a long time since she'd been able to touch whiskey without thinking of Snape's hot lips devouring hers. Longer since she'd been able to touch anyone else – even Harry – without recalling the sear of his naked flesh against hers for the first time.

Her eyes scanned the crowd as Harry sought out some whiskey for the pair of them. Ginny and Luna were laughing across the room with Kingsley, Neville and George. Ron was standing amid the gaggle of hero-worshipping bints that always seemed to hang off him since the whirlwind romance that had fizzled between her and Ron in the months following the war.

A hot hand slipped around her middle from behind as her eyes danced and Hermione tensed until she spotted the Malfoy signet ring upon the hand around her.

"What's the big idea, Granger?" he asked, his lips by her ear, caressing the shell. Hermione trembled at the hold. Too sharp, it brought memories of Snape's teeth nibbling her earlobe. "Putting the moves on Potter, eh?"

Hermione felt a little smirk pull at the edges of her mouth. He sounded angry. It was affected for the sake of the press as they swarmed towards her, already having been snapping pictures of her and Harry drinking and talking, calling out questions about their relationship status and the kiss she'd shared with Harry. Draco might genuinely be jealous at the idea of her kissing his boyfriend, but he played it up for the sake of the media buying their lie that they were fighting for her affections rather than madly in love with each other.

"I just couldn't resist, Draco," she said, being sure to let the media hear her. "Harry's just always been so charming."

Draco's other arm slipped around her middle and he pressed his mouth to her ear, uttering words that were just for her.

"Did he talk to you?" he whispered.

Hermione nodded, affecting a cheeky little smile for the cameras in her face. She'd be concerned about being portrayed as a harlot in the papers, but she'd long since stopped caring what lies they wrote about her. Especially when it helped Harry and Draco be happy together.

"Scared you?" Draco murmured, nibbling her earlobe. She could practically feel the smirk on his lips for the cameras.

"I'm a Gryffindor, Draco," Hermione said loudly enough to be overheard. "I don't scare that easily."

His laughter was cool and wicked against her skin. Hermione caught sight of Harry returning with their drinks. He affected a slightly put out expression for the cameras, as though annoyed to find her in Malfoy's clutches.

"You're playing with fire, beautiful," Draco told her as Harry moved over to hand her a drink, all while the reporter's squealed questions and snapped pictures and splashed ink across their notepads. She'd made sure to stand under the banner for the fund raiser the gala was being held for, ensuring every picture would flash news about the construction of a War Orphans home.

Hermione turned her head to meet Draco's silver eyed gaze over her shoulder.

"Did you forget how much I like the heat?" she pretended to purr at him before pressing her lips to his. His arms tightened around her as he kissed her back, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips and recalling to mind how she'd done the same thing to Snape.

Gods, she was pathetic. She needed to get over this utterly ridiculous hang-up on a man who'd made it more than clear that he didn't want her after one night of sloshed shagging.

"What's the big idea, Malfoy?" Harry asked for the sake of the papers, interrupting their kiss. "Hermione? You snog me and now you're snogging him."

"Try not to get your wand in a knot, Potter," Draco sneered, pulling back from her lips to taunt his boyfriend for the media.

"You want her? You'll have to fight me for the privilege, mate," Harry retorted. Hermione fought the urge to giggle. "May the best man win?"

He offered Draco a glass of whiskey. Draco took it and held it out in a bid to toast the idea.

"Don't worry, mate. I will." Draco said smugly, chinking his glass to Harry's and releasing Hermione.

Taking that as her cue to escape, Hermione slipped away from the silly sods so bent on each other yet so secretive about their love. She was throwing back the rest of her whiskey and ignoring questions from the reporters about whether Draco or Harry made a better lover; whether she thought they'd ever consider a triad with her and when she was going to let other witches have a shot at their individual fortunes rather than hogging both.

She almost stumbled when she spotted him. She choked on her last mouthful of whiskey. Across the crowded Ministry atrium, lingering in the shadows, she met his dark eyes. Her heart skipped several beats in a row. Those eyes, so dark, mesmerizing; they held her captive and she felt herself being sucked into them all over again. A pang inside her chest clenched her heart as he looked her up and down, eyes lingering upon the _Tenebris Sanctus_ hanging from her throat. His gift to her.

Severus Snape. He'd returned.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Nightmares. The empty, aching throb in her womb that recalled his touch so well. She tossed, the sheets constricting like terrible pythons. Choking. Sobbing. She sat bolt upright. Snape. He'd returned.

After the night she'd spent with him, he'd disappeared. Hermione shuddered as she scrubbed a hand over her face in her dark flat. Three years it had been since she last saw him. Three years since he'd spurned the gift of her innocence after despoiling it. Three years since he'd left her with a broken heart and a quickening that haunted her nightmares.

Crookshanks trilled at her from the spare pillow.

"He's back." she muttered to the darkness. "Why? Why now?"

He hadn't been seen in public in three years. He'd made his excuses after his night with her and then he'd disappeared. Harry had been worried. Minerva, beside herself. Owl contact could be made, but locating him had seemed impossible. Many had tried. His appearance at the event should've created more of a stir. He'd looked… well. Healthy. As alluringly dark and mysterious as ever.

Her body thrummed with the urge for him. Merlin's little green apples, it had been a _long_ time since she'd last felt that kind of yearning pulse through her nethers.

"Why?" she whispered, her hand finding Crookshanks and scudding through his thick fur. "What would lure him out of hiding the very day that Harry asks me to carry his and Draco's children?"

More tea. Tea fixed everything. She knew. She'd glued her heart back together with it more times than should be legal. Crawling from her bed, she padded barefoot down the hall. A flick of her wand warmed the kettle. Autopilot teased tealeaves into a pot and prepared a cup.

She hadn't seen him in too long. She'd… Hermione's hand swept across her empty womb. Surely it had been a trick of the light. Someone who looked like him. A terrible reminder of what she'd lost. A warning that Harry's request could never be a task for her. Yes, that must be it, else the media would've been all over him.

Just a trick of the light. Not Snape. Just someone else with dark hair and dark eyes and an alluring stare. Her hand shook as she poured boiled water into the deep Brown Betty teapot. Tealeaves burst, aroma drifting to her, reminding her of him. Gods, his scent like peppermint, herbs and fresh brewed tea still haunted her. It always had.

From her first Potions lesson on her first day, she'd been intrigued. Cutting remarks. Terrorising students. Cruelty. None of it had deterred her infatuation. She'd never mentioned it. Never acted upon it until that night six months after the war. Only then had she let the infatuation, nursed to a crush and perhaps something more, lead her to his side.

Whiskey. He'd been drinking a lot of it. She recalled the notion sharply because it was out of character. A bad night, filled with pain. A memorial erection for those lost in the fighting. A recognition of achievement. Medals gifted. Money heaped. Fame accrued. Pain in his eyes as the long list of names were read out. Guilt too, beneath the shimmer that warned away all but the most foolish of witches.

Yes, she'd approached. She'd offered quiet support to a man who stood alone no matter his newfound fame and recognition for all he'd survived and sacrificed. Whiskey on his breath when she'd spent the night by his side, talking softly, offering sardonic commentary upon the falsehoods uttered, the wild stories spun and the sycophantic masses.

His amusement when she'd been as cruel as she recalled him being in her earlier days. His apparent appreciation when she'd kept money-grubbing tarts from attempting seduction of the suddenly alluring and famous Potions Master. The feel of his long fingers upon her wrist when she'd stood with her back to him, facing down a determined Daisy bent on interviewing him with uncomfortable questions.

A flirtatious slip of the tongue that if he weren't looking so suave, he surely wouldn't be so pursued. More amusement at her blunt honesty about his looks and his off-putting persona. His surprise at her bravery to admit it when all others hailed him a hero and deemed him interesting, handsome and sensual as a result. All things he'd been to her for many long years before his heroism came to light.

That first brush of his thumb along her lower lip, the faint fogginess in his eyes thanks to their steadily consumed liquor. Merlin's demons, she could still taste that fire-whiskey kiss upon her lips three years later. Her heart kicked out an uneven beat, the memory of his hands, so careful upon her when she'd leaned in for another kiss. The flare of happiness and hunger deep inside her at the taste of his tongue.

She could still feel his mouth by her ear, suggesting they find somewhere more private. His arms, so snug and sure around her when he'd apparated them to his new residence. The tea burned her throat going down when she gulped it, wetting her parched throat.

She'd not had sex with anyone since that night. Left in his bed with a dangerous dark artefact absorbing the vestiges of her innocent and a crack in her heart, she'd been sure that she'd have nothing of the night but those two souvenirs.

She'd been wrong.

Two months later, the awareness of her period failing to arrive. Three months later, the sickness in the mornings and a faint thickening of her slim waist. Frantic letters. Seeking. Searching. Needing to tell him. Panic when they went unanswered. Recollection of memories she'd viewed in a Pensieve; a horrid childhood, an abusive father and a mother cowed into indifference toward her child.

Indecision warring within her. To terminate or to throw her future away on the vague hope that a child of his seed might somehow bring him back to her. An accident. Blood. A decision taken out of her hands and leaving her numb.

Empty.

Broken.

Hermione's hand clutched at her womb once more, gulping more tea and fighting tears. She couldn't do it. How could she offer Harry and Draco the hope of children for their own when her own selfish heart's desire had been ripped away? Nature's intervention to punish her folly. She _couldn't_. False hope would only hurt them. She'd been incapable of carrying the child _she_ wanted more than anything.

Yet, how could she not help? They had no one else they would trust so implicitly with such a task. She was, she thought bitterly, the perfect choice. She had no prospects for marriage in her future because she refused to trust men. They all wanted her money. Her fame. Her brains. The right to claim her to further themselves in some way. Those who didn't want that – like Ronald – weren't compatible. Weren't acceptable.

Weren't _him_.

Logically, she was a fabulous choice as a mother to the children they both wanted. Brainy. Powerful. Able to separate herself from the emotion. She was even attracted just enough to both men that she wouldn't mind the sex required to conceive the heirs they both needed. They ran the risk of landing their children with her unruly curls but in her mind's eyes she could see one with platinum curls and another with jet black curls and Harry's green eyes. Adorable was an understatement.

She could do it. She was only twenty-three, but she'd been ready to keep Severus Snape's child at nineteen. She didn't doubt that Harry and Draco would be happy to allow her into their lives. Hell, from Harry's comment about then both fancying her, she'd bet they'd entertain a triad if she asked.

She wouldn't. She adored the pair of them as a couple, and individually they amused her. But they weren't Snape. Harry had the sass and Draco had the cutting, dry wit. But they weren't her dark Potions Master. They weren't as alluring and mesmerizing. Then again, she'd never get to have Snape, so maybe she _should_ suggest it. They had no other choices in mind for someone to bear them each an heir. The only others close enough were Ginny and Luna.

Ginny and Harry had been like oil and water when they'd had a shot at their love without the pressure of war. Draco couldn't stand her. And Luna? Sweet Luna would likely be willing enough to give them both children but Hermione doubted Draco would allow it. Harry liked her well enough, but she was too vague to consider as a mother for their children.

No, if they chose anyone, she was the logical choice. The problem would be her body. She didn't want to get their hopes up only to have them dashed if she miscarried again. Worse, Harry and Draco were still in the closet. She didn't think bringing a child or two into the mix would make things less complicated.

She would have to discuss it with them. Surely they would want to get things together first. Harry _had_ said it was a long-term goal and that there was no rush. Maybe she would think about it further and discuss it with both of them. They'd need full disclosure of her past miscarriage and her very limited excursion into carnal knowledge. Since Snape she hadn't done more than trade oral, so running at Draco and Harry would be rather awkward.

Gods, could she tell them _whom_ she'd been pregnant to? Could she admit to having slept with Snape? Not that she was ashamed. No, her fear stemmed from the pity they would angle her way when she told them he'd deflowered her, given her a dark gift, knocked her up and disappeared.

Gulping her tea and boiling the kettle to make more, Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall of her flat. Four in the morning. Hermione sighed, rubbing the back of her neck and trying to alleviate the ache from sleeping at a bad angle in her nightmares.

She jumped when strong fingers pushed hers aside, a gasp upon her lips as she turned to face the owner of the hands even as he brought her relief.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"What are you doing awake at this hour, beautiful?" he asked her softly. Hermione sighed, relaxing when she recognised his voice.

Draco.

For a heart-stopping moment, she'd thought it was Snape. He must've come home with Harry, or snuck around after the party. Her flatmate was often prone to bringing his boyfriend home with him. It was one the reasons she knew about them at all and why they trusted her so much. The media had no idea, of course. They believed Harry lived in Godric's Hollow. He didn't. He owned a property there, and sometimes he used it, but most of the time he shared her cramped London flat with her.

"Nightmare," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes and leaning against the kitchen counter. Draco leaned against her back, his long, clever fingers teasing the muscles in the back of her neck and easing the kink there.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he murmured. Wandlessly he levitated the kettle and poured a fresh pot of tea, intent on sharing it with her.

"I… not really," Hermione said.

She smiled at the feel of Draco leaning against her. Dressed in only her bed-short and a tank top, she could feel that he hadn't bothered to don a shirt when he'd climbed out of bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she offered an apology.

"I was awake. Potter's wretched owl snores. And I heard you scream."

Scream? Had she? She hadn't been having the type of nightmare that caused her to scream.

"In _your_ nightmare?" she asked shrewdly, having learned over the past year and half that he'd been dating Harry, that Draco Malfoy was an extremely private person who kept his cards close to his chest.

"You really are too smart for your own good, you know?" he told her, still rubbing her neck. He had magic fingers when he did that.

"It comes in handy. Do _you_ want to talk about it?" Hermione offered.

"Do I ever?" he replied.

Hermione snorted. No, he didn't. He hated sharing unless the words were dragged out of him like pulling troll teeth. Stubborn git.

"What's got you having nightmares, anyway? You haven't in a while, to my knowledge," he asked, changing the subject when she didn't push him to share.

Hermione sighed softly.

"I thought I saw someone at the gala tonight I hadn't seen in a long time. It's playing on my mind and I was still thinking about it when I went to bed."

"Oh? Anyone I know?"

Hermione smiled.

"You know them. I'm not going to tell you who it was though. I'm sure it was just a trick of the light and my own imagination running away with me."

"Your imagination is filled with worry about something else, too. I saw you clutching your stomach when I walked out here and I know it's the wrong time of the month for you to be in pain."

Merlin curse observant Slytherin men.

"Harry floated an idea into my mind," Hermione offered before groaning softly when he hit upon a knot in her neck and worked it mercilessly.

"Bastard has no tact," Draco muttered.

"He was very tactful, actually. I'm honoured to have been asked."

"Honoured?" Draco scoffed. "You seem terrified."

Hermione smiled to herself in the dark when her teacup bumped her nose, levitated by him as he kept massaging her neck.

"I told you I don't scare that easily, Draco." Hermione told him. "I'm not afraid at the idea of being asked to bear you and Harry an heir each."

"Then what are you afraid of?" he murmured. "You're _never_ this tense. Not even when your Masters ride you at the Ministry about outdoing the other apprentices. Are you worried you'll agree and then have to explain the awkwardness of having two children, out of wedlock, to a pair of wizards who are shagging each other?"

"Well, I hadn't thought that far ahead, but I imagine it _would_ make future relationships awkward."

"Not if you joined _ours_ ," Draco said.

Hermione turned to look over her shoulder at him, seeing only by the light of the _Tenebris Sanctus_ hanging around her throat.

"Is that what the two of you really want?" she asked. "Neither of your actually fancy me enough that you've tried talking me out of my knickers before. You're entirely wrapped up in each other. You don't need me complicating things."

"Actually, I don't think you _would_ complicate things, Granger," he told her, his grey eyes darting between both of hers. "I knew a long time ago, before ever entertaining the idea that Potter might fancy me back, that you and him were a package deal. Circe, for a while I convinced myself that it was _you_ I was mad for and that Potter was just an intriguing distraction to argue with. Honestly, for a bit there I figured if I ever wanted a shot with Potter or with you, the two of you were a package deal. Hell, I had nightmares thinking you lot would also come with an inconvenient side of Weaselbee."

"Exactly how long _have_ you fancied Harry?" Hermione asked him curiously.

"Hard to say," he evaded. "Too long, probably. Longer than I should've, what with my father breathing down my neck to be the perfect little pureblood. I first thought I had a thing for you in fourth year."

"The Yule Ball?" Hermione asked.

"You looked like a girl for the first time instead of a bloody goblin."

"Goblin? Really? This is how you try to convince me to date you and Harry?"

"Leave off, I might have a silver tongue but you and Saint Potter both prefer it when I straight talk. The point is, I made room for the idea of entertaining the two of you - don't get me started on Weaselbee; that was too much to come at, even for me - a long time ago. You and Harry have always been a package deal. I admit that I still get jealous at times when the two of you share an inside joke or simply revel in each other's company because you've been together so long."

"Wouldn't including me in your relationship make you feel like a third wheel with your own boyfriend?" Hermione asked.

Draco laughed.

"Witch, you're already included in our relationship. We snog you to get away with hiding that we're hot for each other. You bloody live here with Potter and don't care, at all, that most days I live here too. The only reason you haven't been invited into bed with us is because you've got a big 'Fuck Off' stamped on your forehead and never seem to take an interest in anyone. Thought you might be into girls, for a while, but you don't date them either."

Hermione sighed, looking down at her teacup to know he'd noticed her propensity to avoid men as diligently as she could outside of being seen with this one or that one at an event for the sake of not turning up alone.

"Hey," Draco murmured, stepping around her to lean against the counter and lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What's the deal, Granger? I know you've have a bad string of escorts to the fancy functions, but I wasn't kidding about you being in this thing with us _and_ about the idea of inviting you in to play with us. Potter suggests it whenever you look particularly depressed and I admit, I've been caught ogling your tits more than once. If you're not into either of us fine, but tell me why. Who _are_ you into?"

"Now who sees too much for his own good?" Hermione asked lightly.

"I make it my business to keep very much up to speed with your comings and goings," he agreed. "Potter's happiness hinges on you. Not me. Not Weasley. Not his Godson. On you. If he lost you, he'd quit life."

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco. He loves you. I know he and Ron have their issues these days, but he adores you."

Draco smirked at the assurance.

"He does. How could he not? I'm Draco Malfoy."

Hermione felt a smirk of her own tug at the corners of her mouth. He always played up his arrogance when people discussed their feelings for him, secretly battling his own self-esteem issues after a lifetime of heteronormative conditioning.

"You are. Isn't he lucky to have you?" she chuckled, leaning over slightly to press an affectionate kiss to his bare shoulder.

" _I'm_ the lucky one," Draco muttered. "But we're talking about you. I know you haven't lit up about any bloke since you broke things off with Weasley. Did he truly mean that much to you?"

Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, unable to hold his gaze, knowing he was a Legilimens and not above using it on her if she tried to be evasive.

"Not like that," Hermione shook her head. "Ron and I were never right for each other. We never would've amounted to anything, even if he hadn't strayed. We're too different. He's all about Quidditch, food, fame and fortune. We never had anything to say to one another when we didn't have a Dark Lord to fight or homework to focus on. I relate better to you than I ever did to Ron."

"Of course you do, I have more than two brain cells to rub together and I don't think exclusively with my dick unless Potter's naked in my general vicinity," he smirked. "So if it wasn't Weasley, who wrecked your heart, little witch?"

Hermione smiled against his shoulder.

"You really are too observant. Who said my heart had anything to do with it?"

"I did," he replied. "You don't trust men, other than Harry. Not even me, much. At first I thought that was just a reaction to Weaselbee's unfortunate habit of cuckolding you, but it's not. I don't think he ever had your heart."

Hermione shrugged.

"I fancied him a fair bit," she admitted. "From fifth year onwards."

"Fancied him, maybe. But you didn't love him. You're too clever to offer fresh meat to a snapping dog. When he dated Brown to toy with you in sixth year, you learned not to trust him with something so precious," Draco mused. Hermione shivered when he twisted her body around until she was leaning against his chest, her ear detecting the steady beat of his heart. His hands slipped subconsciously under the hem of her shirt to traces patterns against the small of her back.

"The only other bloke I've seen you have any kind of connection to is Potter. And for a bit I thought maybe you were hurt that he fancies the pants off me, but you never give either of us a sour-grapes look, so it's not Potter who wrecked your heart, either."

"Who said it had to be about my heart?" she repeated. "Why can't we just say that I don't trust straight men and that I've little interest in dating one?"

"I'd believe that if you were doing more than considering the idea of shagging me and Harry to give us kids. We've both admitted to fancying you and obviously we fancy each other. Most witches would give their left tit for the chance to be in a triad, especially with two of the most eligible and richest wizards in our world right now. But you're just mulling it over and worrying about the pregnancy part. So if you don't fancy us, who do you fancy?"

"Does it matter?" Hermione asked quietly. "He's made it abundantly clear that I am not to his tastes. I haven't even spoken to him in years."

"Granger?" Draco asked, his hand coming up to cup one of her cheeks and forcing her to meet his gaze. He searched her eyes and Hermione threw up her Occlumency shields

"You're much better at those than Potter," he complimented softly. "But not good enough. See, I've got another clue as to who might've been a little too rough with your heart."

"Oh?"

Draco smirked, his hand leaving her cheek the snag hold of the chain around her neck. He tugged it upwards to reveal the glowing orb of her _Tenebris Sanctus._

"Do you know how many witches in the world still keep to the old ways enough to own one of these things?" he asked softly.

Hermione shook her head.

"About fifty," he said. "At least of those witches living. Now, keep in mind that I said own, not use."

"What are you getting at?"

"You have to know people who know people with _very_ deep pockets or very _old_ bloodlines to get one of these, Granger. They're barely legal. In fact, their production has been outlawed for almost a century and the only witches allowed to use them come from very powerful magical lines dating back generations. You've got to be a pureblood with dodgy connections to even get one made these days. You've got to be pretty crafty to get your hands on one, since most witches refuse to part with them, even those who don't use them. Hell, other than you, the only witches I've ever know who have them and _use_ them are my mother, Aunt Andromeda and Aunt Bella."

Hermione's insides twisted at the mention of the last witch.

"So, you having one? Not exactly something that goes unnoticed by those of us in the know about such artefacts. And since you don't have a long and uninterrupted line of witches passing such things down, I'm going to say you got it from a wizard – probably to one you gave your virginity to. Am I right?"

Hermione nodded, clutching the orb in her hand once more and drawing a sense of comfort at its familiarity.

"Thought so. That narrows it down even more. The only way a wizard gets his hands on one of these is if he's terribly wretched and steals it from a witch, or if he inherits it as the last of his line when his mother dies with no female heiresses to pass it to. I happen to know of only one man's mother who would've had one and been too scared to use it. One whose mother is now deceased. Particularly one unlikely to have ever envisioned children for himself and thus needing _someone_ to pass it on to."

Her heart stuttered inside her chest.

"You know, don't you?" Hermione whispered.

"I could take an educated guess," Draco confirmed. "Shall I? Or will you admit it for yourself?"

"I've never told anyone. No one knows. I don't even let this be seen very often because I know they're rare and I know how powerful they can be in the wrong hands," Hermione admitted.

"Two people know. You and your lover. And now me."

"Do you really know, or are you guessing?" Hermione asked. Draco's arms tightened around her and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, expressing in the dark a level of affection he was never comfortable with during daylight hours.

"I do believe that I'd very much like to hear the story of how you seduced Severus Snape into bed with you, Granger," Draco whispered against her temple.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

He stared at her when she finished her tale, having migrated to the couch in the living room to talk by the crackling fire and drink fresh tea.

"He just… left?" Draco frowned. "That's very unlike my Godfather."

"Not really. He might be the bravest man alive, but he's never been particularly gifted at facing his emotions. Likely he sobered up enough during or after shagging me to realise what he'd done and ran for it. I'm nineteen years younger than him, one of his least favourite students, and not someone he has a future with. Not to mention I apparently have a few too many common traits with a certain other witch who has owned his heart since before I was born."

"Lily," Draco murmured. He shook his head as his eyes travelled over her. "I don't think so, Granger. You might both have been muggleborn, but the other things I've heard about her? You and her didn't have that much in common."

"What do you mean? What have you heard? Sirius and Remus always said she was lovely. Kind. Very bright. Utterly beautiful."

"She was married to their best mate and she's Harry's mother. Never underestimate the lies people tell to avoid speaking ill of the dead. The things I've heard about the witch? You're ten times the person she was."

"How so?" Hermione frowned.

"If Harry or Ron ever called you a Mudblood, what would you have done?" Draco asked her shrewdly. "Moreover, if they did so in anger, in front of people judging them for their beliefs, what would you do? Would you forgive them?"

"Of course I would. I mean, I'd be hurt of course, but I have thick skin. I had some snot-nosed little prick telling me every other day all about how dirty my blood was."

Draco smirked.

"You did. Sorry, again, about that. Now tell me, if someone like… I don't know, Ginny or Luna, called you a mudblood, what would you do?"

"The same thing."

"Well then who's someone you tolerate for the sake of a long-term friendship but would happily be rid of if you could?"

"Ron, these days," Hermione admitted.

"Right. If he called you a Mudblood for trying to defend his honour, you'd tell him to jam and it and never forgive him because of what a bastard he's been and because you no longer _want_ to associate with him but you have to because of your past. That's what Evans did to Severus. Turned her back on him the minute she had a valid excuse to be free of him because he was possessive, into questionable things, hanging out with a bad crowd and fancied her enough to make her uncomfortable. Only, if you did it, you'd be justified. She wasn't. I don't know where they pulled the label of kindness from to slap on her, but everything I've heard Father say to Severus about it suggests she was shallow, vain and fickle"

Hermione shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. The point is that I got drunk with him, I shagged him, and when we were through shagging, he panicked. Gave me the _Tenebris,_ activated it, called me a fool and said a number of other hurtful things pertaining to my intelligence levels for shagging him and giving him my virginity to begin with and then he left. We were at his place, so it was up to me to leave and I didn't stick around for him to come back and insult me anymore. I left and then he disappeared. Even when I tried to contact him a few months after the fact, he refused to reply."

Draco was watching her carefully in the firelight and Hermione met his gaze accidentally without lifting her Oclumency shields.

"Shit," he cursed softly. "You… you were pregnant?"

Hermione closed her eyes, tears stinging.

"Did you…?"

"I miscarried," Hermione admitted. Pain lanced through her, stealing her breath. "I miscarried at four months. I wrote to him when I realised I was late and then when I took a pregnancy test and started getting morning sickness. He never replied; never showed up. I know he got the letters because my owl always returned without them, but he didn't answer them."

"Had you tried to contact him prior to finding out you were pregnant?" Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head. "He made it clear he didn't want anything more to do with me. I only owled him when I was in a panic to learn I was pregnant."

"Bloody hell, no wonder you were having nightmares," Draco muttered. "You um… you didn't tell him that you miscarried, did you?"

"I…" Hermione blinked her eyes open slowly to look at him. The questioned jarred her. "No. It never occurred to me. I was so distraught when I lost the baby that I… honestly I curled up and died inside. Ron was busy being a letch and Harry had Auror training. I just… kept it to myself. No one knew. I hadn't been to see the healers. I've never told anyone. Only Snape knew that I was pregnant at all, until now."

"So he has no idea whether or not you've been raising his kid all alone?"

"Well, not exactly. I imagine that the papers would've had a field day reporting my pregnancy and the birth of my child – especially a fatherless child I'd have refused to publicly name. I expect that he knows I didn't have the baby, but whether through miscarriage or termination would be a mystery to him."

"Fucking hell, Granger," Draco groaned, shooting her a glare. "Have you lost your bloody mind? You didn't even bother to tell him you'd miscarried? Fuck! This is a man who is convinced that no matter his war-hero status, he is less than worthless to anyone. He has no family that I've ever met. Any remaining free Death Eater and sympathisers to the Dark Lord's cause would actively hunt him if they could get away with it. The only bloody person he even tolerates meeting with is me! How could you not at least send a bloody scrap of parchment telling him you'd miscarried. Fuck!"

"He didn't return my letters, Draco," Hermione protested, more tears trickling down her cheeks. "He didn't _care_ one way or another that I was pregnant. If he did, he certainly made no effort to suggest I terminate or to claim me or our unborn child! I was a little too broken up over the loss and hurting over the physical ordeal of a miscarriage to be concerned about owling a man who doesn't given a flying fuck about me!"

Draco darted forward and gripped her curls either side of her face so fast she squealed.

"You bloody little fool!" he hissed at her, his eyes narrowed. "Don't you understand? If he didn't reply it was because he believed you would do the _sensible_ thing and terminate. He didn't move to claim either of you because he was likely already fucked up over having shagged you – a former student of his – so recently. And he'd have been scared out of his fucking mind that you would go against his wishes, either to keep or terminate the baby, and likely needed time to think it over. This is a man whose entire life was ruled by two megalomaniacs. Severus hadn't made a life-altering decision for himself in twenty years when you were pregnant! Your miscarriage wouldn't have crossed his mind. He would simply have believed that he deliberated too bloody long and you'd terminated his bloody kid."

Hermione paled.

"Merlin's demon, no wonder he was such a fucking cunt to me after he withdrew from the world."

"You still see him?" Hermione asked.

"Of course I do. He's my godfather. He might have no interest in meeting with idiots who'll gush over his bravery like his former colleagues at the school. Or with the likes of Harry, who would stare at him with a mixture of awe and pity before asking for stories about his mum. Or anyone else he can't fuck stupid and throw from his bed when he's scratched the bloody itch. He's the most private person I've ever met, and Granger, _that_ is saying something."

Hermione felt a pit open up in her stomach at the idea of him shagging other people. Even more so at the idea of him being hurt over the assumption that she'd have willingly terminated his child's life before it could begin. The pain washed over her all over again. The idea that she could've hurt him that way, no matter how wretched he'd been to her or how uncommunicative he'd been at the time, cracked her heart anew.

A wretched sob tore from her throat as Draco ran a hand through his hair.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

"Who are we setting you up with for the next Ministry function?" Harry asked her two weeks later.

"I'm thinking about going alone," Hermione admitted.

"Nonsense." Draco rustled his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as the three of them shared breakfast. His mother was beside herself over the fact that he'd spent almost every night for the past two weeks sleeping over with Harry and Hermione at their flat. More often than not, Hermione's nightmares woke her and she ended up crawling in to snuggle the couple. "If you go alone you'll look desperate. It's a bloody Valentine's Day celebration raising money for those wretched love pixies. You can't go stag, Granger."

"Well, I can't go with either of you without causing another stir in the bloody papers that will completely distract from the purpose of the event," she pointed out.

"You also can't go with the man you'd like," Draco said, this time glancing at her over the top of his newspaper. Hermione winced at the casual reference to Snape.

Harry had been beyond furious with her for keeping so many secrets for so long when she and Draco had explained why she'd crawled into their bed with them the night she'd told her secrets to Draco. But he'd come around with enough sympathy to cuddle her while she cried all over again and then he'd had the audacity to ask if Snape was a good shag. Draco had smacked him upside the head for being so tactless.

"I still reckon you're barmy for wanting _Snape_ when you have us," Harry said, munching on his cereal as he wiggled his toes beneath Draco's arse on the couch to warm them. They hadn't bothered with the dining room table for their morning meal, even though they all needed to be leaving for work shortly and none of them were dressed to leave yet, lounging around in their housecoats.

"Do we have to go there?" Hermione asked, realising that he was implying the idea of entertaining a triad scenario between the three of them. Again. She'd be flattered if not for the pressure she felt that they only wanted to invite her into their love nest to give them both a kid.

"Dunno," Harry shrugged. "Been meaning to ask you about it, to be honest."

"Now?" Draco asked, lowering his paper enough to glare at his boyfriend.

"When else?" Harry shrugged.

"What do you want to know, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Whether you've thought anymore about my proposal about kids," Harry said bluntly.

"So woefully blunt," Draco sighed. "Would, that I had fallen for a romantic instead of an idiot."

"Idiot this, mate," Harry flicked a spoonful of cereal at him, splattering the front page of the paper – another diatribe about Hermione's monopolisation of Britain's eligible bachelors after being spotted with Harry in Diagon Alley yesterday when they'd run out of potion ingredients for Hangover cures.

"What does my potential to conceive your spawn have to do with Snape _or_ my need for a date to the dance?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Harry blinked, a frown forming on his brow. "Nothing. But the point is, you haven't really brought it up and I'm curious about what's going on inside your head."

Hermione sighed, leaning back in her chair and sipping her tea carefully.

"I'm still a little bit concerned about giving either of you the false hope that I could carry a child to term."

Harry and Draco both eyed her sympathetically, no doubt spotting the way her lower lip trembled.

"What about George? For the Ball." Harry suggested, quickly reverting the subject back to finding her a date for the Valentine's Day function.

"I can't go with George," Hermione shook her head. "He hasn't been able to look me in the eye since we hooked up."

"Why?" Draco asked, smirking over the top of her paper. "Are you rubbish at blow jobs or something?"

"Too good," Harry laughed. "George got drunk with me one night after it happened and admitted he can't look at her because every time he does he wants to ask her to do it all over again."

Draco eyed her speculatively. Hermione made a face at him. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to show off my skills."

"Spoil sport," Draco accused. Harry kicked him for being a git. Draco's eyed swivelled to land on his boyfriend. "Bloody hell, you're adorable when you're jealous, Potter."

Hermione shook her head at the two of them, smiling fondly.

"In any case," Draco continued when Harry grinned sheepishly at him. "You _need_ a date for the party. Mostly because it's Valentine's Day and you'll look sad and lonely if you go stag. Not to mention every other lonely fucker will try to take advantage of you in your 'vulnerable' state and I don't want my boyfriend's nose getting broken fighting off drunken bastards who grope you."

"Don't lie," Harry chided. "You love it when I get roughed up."

Draco's cheeks turned pink at the notion.

"Another important reason for you not to go alone happens to be that I've got it on good authority that a certain dark, snarky bastard will be there," Draco said, ignoring Harry's suggestions. Hermione's heart clenched inside her chest.

"Snape's going to be there?" Harry asked, his eyebrows lifting.

Draco nodded while Hermione's stomach began performing an elaborate gymnastics routine that made her dizzy. His grey eyes clashed with her in a challenging yet sympathetic expression as he went on to say, "And he's bringing a date."

Her heart dropped into her boots.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"You're going," Draco warned his Godfather a week later.

Severus Snape glared at him from across the room.

"Do you truly imagine, after all this time, that I will begin taking orders from you?" Severus sneered at him.

"I imagine your date is going to be extremely disappointed. She's been looking forward to seeing you after so long and the idea of dragging you out of your reclusive hovel has had her chittering at me like a nitwit all bloody week. I will _not_ risk upsetting my mother on Valentine's Day just because you're feeling cowardly."

Draco knew the moment the words left his mouth that he had him, even if his Godfather's expression turned dark and cruel and wicked.

"Lucius would kill us both if he thought I were dating your mother, Draco," Severus argued in a silken tone that suggested he would very much like to maim him.

"Lucius would kill _me_ if he knew who I'm dating," Draco shrugged. "In any case, the man's in prison and my mother has been looking forward to having an acceptable escort to accompany her to an event for the first time in a long time. Going alone has made her extremely depressed."

"You realise that your mother is going to have a horrid evening?" Severus asked, arching one eyebrow. "I am _not_ good company."

"You hardly need to tell _me_ that, Severus," Draco answered haughtily. "You're going and that's final. You don't have to be there long. Just escort her there, be as polite as you know how, and help her forget for a little while that my father is locked in prison."

"Are you aware of the stir it will cause to have me appear in public for the first time in years with your mother on my arm? On Valentine's Day?"

Gods, that silken tone made him shiver with a hint of fear, even after all the years he'd known the man.

"So what? She can help keep the raging torrent of witches wet for a piece of you at bay and she gets a lovely night out dancing."

Severus rolled his eyes at the very idea that there would still be women interested in fucking him for his fame, his money and his service to the wizarding world. Draco laced his fingers together and regarded the man across the small sitting room.

"You are aware, I suppose, of what I will do to you if I'm corralled by some desperate spinster looking to alleviate her loneliness in my arms, yes?" Severus asked sardonically.

"If you intend to spank me, be aware that Harry will want to watch," Draco smirked in return. Snape made a face of disgust and looked away, reaching for his teacup rather than commenting. Draco didn't take it personally. When he'd told his godfather he was bent, Snape's only reply had been ' _Ob-viously'._

He knew the man didn't care one way or the other that Draco fancied blokes, he just still couldn't stand Potter. Especially given Harry's propensity to stare at him in awe after all he had done, and to ask invasive questions about Lily Evans and the childhood Snape had shared with her.

"So," Draco said when silence prevailed for a few long moments after his statement. Severus looked back at him, his brow twitching into a faint frown at Draco's leading tone. "When were you going to tell me about Granger?"

He smirked to himself all the more when the teacup Snape had been lifting to his lips suddenly shattered in his hold.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Hermione nervously smoothed her hands over the skirt of her hunter-green evening gown. The skirt was long and floaty, floor length and falling loosely from her waist. The cleavage line dipped just enough to flirt but not to be inappropriate. She'd pinned her unruly curls up into an elegant knot but for a few loose tendrils, smoothed with Sleek-Eazy's to make them more manageable.

"Did I mention that you look beautiful?" Theodore Nott asked her, catching her hand to keep her from wrinkling her skirts as they waited for the herald to announce their arrival to the room.

"I… Actually yes," Hermione smiled at the man on her arm. "You did. But thank you for saying it again."

"Do I make you nervous?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at her. "You seem tense?

Hermione smiled at him. He was unbearably handsome, if she was being honest; wickedly gleaming hazel eyes, smooth dark hair styled just so, formal dress robes tailor-made to fit his lithe form. Draco had talked her into attending with Theo, citing Theo's own woes in the world of romance that had seen the woman Theo loved dating someone else.

"A little bit," she admitted. "Sorry. I don't mean to be nervous. Maybe I just need a drink?"

Theo grinned at her.

"Draco told me that you've got your eye on someone who's going to be here tonight, yeah? It's understandable that you're nervous, Granger."

"Is Daphne attending tonight's ball?" Hermione asked him, not wanting to discuss the fact that she'd been in knots since Draco had told her Snape would be coming tonight.

"Yeah," Theo sighed softly. "With fucking Flint."

Hermione patted his arm comfortingly.

"We'll just have to show our crushes what their missing then, won't we?" she asked. Theo smirked at the idea.

"I knew you'd be a good sport," Theo grinned just before the herald announced them to the room.

As the stepped into the doorway and began descending the steps, Hermione let him tuck her hand through the crook of his elbow. He smirked at the cameras flashing incessantly, no doubt landing himself a place in tomorrow's paper for being her date. Hermione pasted a dazzling smile upon her face even as she scanned the room for some sign of Severus Snape.

"Now then, a drink, you said?" Theo asked when they reached the bottom of the entrance hall and began leading her towards the gathered crowd. The entire room was a sickening shade of pink, decorated with hearts and flowers and all the romantic baubles the world had on offer, apparently.

"Merlin, yes," Hermione laughed as he led her over to a giant wine fountain and accepted two glasses on their behalf.

"We should mingle," he told her, watching her gulp down the drink more rapidly than was necessarily proper.

Hermione nodded and let him lead her around the room. She made small talk and exchanged greetings with friends and colleagues. She evaded the wandering hands of Cormack McClaggen when he appeared out of nowhere with Pansy Parkinson on his arm and tried to feel her up. She found Harry and pecked him on the cheek to more flashing cameras. She did the same to Neville, Ginny and Luna when she found them, introducing Theo to all of them as she went.

Indeed, she was in the middle of a discussion with Kingsley almost a half hour later when the herald called for their attention once more.

"Presenting Lady Narcissa Malfoy and Master Severus Snape!"

Wine glasses were dropped. Jaws dangled. One lady even fainted. Heads swivelled to land on the couple entering the room. Hermione's heart clenched painfully. Narcissa was flawless, seemingly untouched by age, her white blonde hair gleamed in sleek waves, carefully styled and draped over one shoulder. She wore a dress of the finest silver silk, making her look more like a Veela than anyone Hermione had ever seen – even Fleur.

"Bloody hell," Theo muttered from next to her. "Snape's here? After all this time?"

And he was. There, escorting Narcissa like a suave gentleman, was Hermione's Potion Master. His long black hair hung in glossy curtain about his face as it had always done, partially concealing the sharpness of his jaw. His dark eyes scanned the room and he didn't smile despite the number of cameras pointed in his face. Hermione's heart skipped a beat inside her chest. He was here. Really here.

And he looked good. Whatever he'd been doing since the end of the war had been good for him. He didn't look quite so skeletal or vampiresque anymore, some of his sallowness having faded. He'd filled out just a little but he was still tall and lean and utterly mesmerizing. She watched the way he moved, her heart in her throat and kicking out an uneven beat.

Merlin, she might swoon.

"Deep breaths, Granger," a voice whispered in her ear and Hermione turned slightly to catch a glimpse of Draco's platinum hair out the corner of her eye. She couldn't tear her eyes off Snape.

Questions were hurled at him as he descended. Narcissa leaned over to say something to him and a wicked smirk crossed his face. Were Draco not standing behind her, she'd have fallen to the floor when her knees went weak. Gods, she _ached_ for him.

Her eyes were still on him as he and Narcissa made for the drinks table. Indeed, she was openly staring, hunger in her gaze when he looked right at her. Those fathomless dark eyes gave not even a hint of his thoughts away and Hermione felt like she'd been kicked in the gut when his eyes lingered only long enough to recognise her, before sliding right on by as though she didn't exist.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

She floated. Her distraction had been noted and Harry had been forced to rescue her for a dance. Draco had taken over from him when the song had ended. Theo had come next. Then Neville. Even George had appeared, taking her hand and leading her through the steps.

Hermione began to suspect, dimly, that Harry had mentioned that she was a little distracted and that they should all keep her dance-card full. And throughout the entire thing, her eyes continued to dart back to Snape. She couldn't help it. She was on autopilot. She smiled. She laughed. She danced. But all the while, she was watching him curiously, drinking in the sight of him after so long.

She'd somehow managed to forget that he moved with such predatory grace. She'd forgotten the delight it was to watch his hands move, long-fingered and almost spidery in their grace. She couldn't look at them without recalling the countless times in class that she'd watched him prepares Potion ingredients. She couldn't forget the pleasure those digits had given her, delving deep into her aching centre and driving her to delirium.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, twirling her around the dancefloor for the second time that evening.

"Hmmm?" Hermione hummed, watching Snape over Harry's shoulder as he led Narcissa through a dance, the witch laughing gaily and looking the picture of sophisticated grace. She couldn't find it within herself to even be jealous of the way the woman clung to his hand and held herself poised in his arms as they twirled.

"How long?" Harry asked, his lips by her ear.

"How long, what?" Hermione frowned slightly, trying to focus on his words rather than on the wicked smirk gracing Snape's lips.

"How long have you had a thing for him?" Harry clarified.

Hermione's cheeks bloomed pink. She couldn't answer that.

"Only, I've thought a lot about things since you told me about you and Snape shagging," Harry murmured to her. "And then I got to thinking about how long I subconsciously fancied Draco before realising I was bent. And I realised I'd fancied him almost since the beginning. Or at least, I was attracted to him."

"Does it matter?" Hermione asked, flicking her hair out of her face when an unruly curl tried to block her view of the Potions Master. "He's here with someone else and he looked right through me when he saw me."

"Just tell me."

Hermione sighed.

"Since the beginning," she whispered. "The very beginning. The opening feast when I spotted him sitting at the teacher's table. I couldn't stop looking. I still can't. Every lesson; every run-in amid the corridors; every time he was there, I couldn't stop looking. Listening to him speak would send shivers down my spine in class."

"That happens to everyone. He's got that creepy, hissing voice that puts people on edge," Harry chuckled.

"No, I … They were good chills, Harry. I used to daydream about simply listening to him talk. At first I merely imagined him reading from my favourite books aloud, but the older and more sexually aware I grew, the more the fantasies took a… less appropriate turn."

"You did always make sure to correct me and Ron whenever we would forget his title and hissed at us when we insulted him," Harry mused. "You've really fancied him that long?"

"I… I wouldn't say fancied. In the beginning I was intrigued; beguiled, even. I didn't consider that my interest in him and respect for him could have grown into a crush until fourth year. I didn't ever dream that anything would come of it, right up until it did."

"You still haven't told me how that happened. Or when." Harry reminded her, leading her through another dance when the song changed and ignoring the whispers from people judging them for hogging each other as dance partners.

"The Memorial when we were all given our awards," Hermione said. "He was so uncomfortable under all that attention. The women wouldn't leave him be and the ceremony was _so_ boring. I ended up standing in a corner drinking with him and fending off the slappers who suddenly wanted to get their hands on him and cooed about how handsome, brave, or brilliant he was."

"Jealousy?" he queried.

"No," Hermione laughed softly. "No, I was just trying to help. I made sure to tell him that saving the world hadn't amended his looks one iota."

"Bloody hell! You like playing with fire, don't you, love?" Harry shook with laughter. "How did he take that?"

"He looked offended, for a second. And then he laughed. I didn't bother telling him that I'd always thought him handsome. He wouldn't have believed me."

"You really are twisted if you think that. With that nose? Please?" Harry snorted.

Hermione swatted him.

"Be nice!" she scolded. Harry rolled his eyes at her.

"What's our plan of attack then, oh wise one?" he asked, smirking at her in an uncanny replication of the expression usually on his boyfriend's face.

"I haven't got one," Hermione shrugged. "I put myself out there already, Harry. I told him when I got pregnant and he ignored my letters. I hurt him by letting him think I'd terminated instead of miscarrying. If he wanted to speak to me or have anything to do with me, he's known where to find me. Besides, he looked right through me. He pretended I didn't exist. So I'll respect his decision and leave him be."

"If I'd left things be, Draco and I would never have gotten together, love," Harry whispered in her ear.

"Yeah, well maybe I'm not as courageous as you, Harry. I put myself out there and I got crushed. It's his turn."

Harry sighed, his breath ghosting over her shoulder and the back of her neck. Hermione knew he was biting his tongue, wanting to say something to her and to make sure that she didn't give up on a life-long infatuation with the man just because she'd been hurt before. She was grateful for it. She wasn't in the mood to fight and the last thing she wanted was to argue with Harry at a Ball where anyone might overhear them. She didn't need it getting back to Snape that she was pathetically infatuated with him and had been for longer than she had any right to be.

When the song ended, Harry led her off the dancefloor.

"You look beautiful, you know?" a voice said from behind her as Hermione stood near the edge of the dancefloor sometime later, half-listening to a debate taking place between Ginny Weasley and Oliver Wood over the state of the International Quidditch League.

Hermione closed her eyes at the sound of it. Slightly slurred, a little angry and all but dripping with malice, she didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Thanks," she muttered, feeling Ronald Weasley move up until he was standing right behind her, his hot breath fetid upon the back of her exposed neck.

"Are you fucking Harry?" Ron asked, his voice low by his ear.

"No, Ron. I've never slept with Harry," she said softly, turning her head slightly to look in the opposite direction from where his face was. Her eyes scanned the area for someone who might come to her rescue. Harry was across the room in a deep conversation with Kingsley and Draco. Ginny was too busy arguing with Oliver to notice her – Hermione wished the pair would just shag and get the unresolved sexual tension out of their systems. Luna and Neville were already on the dancefloor, revolving slowly to the soft tune playing.

Even Theo, her date for the evening, was otherwise engaged in what looked like an interesting discussion with the Head of the Apparation Department for the Ministry. The only other people she could spot who might be willing to save her would be infinitely worse to deal with.

"You fuckin' snog him often enough," Ron growled in her ear. "Or is that Malfoy? I'd think you were fucking the pair of them, but we both know what a frigid little bitch you are."

Hermione sighed. She and Ron hadn't ended well. Indeed, the fame had gone to his head and he hadn't liked being told that she wasn't ready for sex at eighteen. The truth was, she just hadn't been ready for sex with him. Every time she'd snogged him it had felt all wrong. The way she imagined it might, had she had siblings and attempted to snog one of them. It confused her to no end that she could snog Harry and not be grossed out but something about snogging Ron made her skin crawl.

"Did you come over here just to insult me, Ronald?" Hermione asked, eyes still scanning, searching desperately now. She didn't want to lose her temper. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to listen to him saying something cutting and mean that would drive her home in a fit of rage or a torrent of tears. And unfortunately, Ron knew exactly where to prod to cause both.

"You were probably fucking him the entire time, weren't you?" Ron sneered, both of his hands – damp even through her dress and making her skin crawl – gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. Hermione winced at the tight grip. She wanted to make him let go, but she really didn't want to cause a scene. Not again.

Ron loved the attention it bought him whenever they had a fight in public. He would push until she screamed at him and the media painted him as a misunderstood hero with a psycho ex-girlfriend instead of a lecherous, cheating scumbag prone to hurting her physically and mentally whenever the chance arose and he could get away with it.

"Of course I was, Ron," Hermione said through gritted teeth. She was so tired of this argument. She'd been having it with him since they'd been hunting horcruxes. He never believed that she and Harry hadn't been shagging during the time when he'd abandoned them. And he refused to let it go. She'd grown tired of trying to placate him with the truth.

"What?" Ron growled, his hands tightening enough to make her wince for anyone to see if they were looking.

"You heard me. Our favourite place was on your bed. Merlin, it felt so good to know that you were out there somewhere, jealous and furious over the two of us while we fucked in your bed," Hermione snarled at him over her shoulder, twisting to glare in his ruddy, hateful face. "Those were the best days of the hunt. Without you there, we didn't have to worry about hiding the secret kisses from you or trying to get away with quickies while you were on watch outside. Is that what you want to hear, Ronald? You want to hear me validate your ludicrous fears because even after all this time and all you've done, you're _still_ hung up on a witch who refused to put out for you?"

Before he could spin her to face him, someone finally rescued her. When she faced forward again she found a solid wall of black before her and a hand held out expectantly, offering a dance. She was reaching for it before she could even register that mix of peppermint, herbs and fresh tealeaves scent that had haunted her dreams and her nightmares for far too long.

His fingers were cool to the touch when he pulled her out of Ron's grip. Hermione's eyes widened and her face paled when she looked up directly into the fathomless black eyes of Severus Snape.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

She forgot about Ron in an instant. His threats and fury coming from behind her barely registered. Fear. It permeated her limbs and set her heart flying. Severus Snape was holding her hand. He was leading her out on to the dancefloor. He was… there.

Hermione was sure she was crimson and gaping at him like an idiot. Surely someone had put him up to it. Draco, perhaps. There was no way he'd have approached just to ask her dance. Not even to rescue her from Ron's now-raging fury as he shouted from behind her, making a scene and looking the fool while Hermione walked away without looking back.

His glare levelled over her head when they reached the middle of the floor apparently was enough to silence Ron and keep him from following her or attacking her. Snape didn't speak as the music began. His grip on her hand shifted, turning her until she was facing him, counting the buttons on his long black robes. Merlin, the last time she'd been this close to him she'd unbuttoned all of his many, many buttons and revealed the marble flesh beneath.

She was sure she was going to trip over her own feet when his free hand found the small of her back just a little too easily. She wondered if others would notice the familiarity with which he held her. Practically hyperventilating, Hermione lifted her hand to rest it on his shoulder and suddenly they were off. To say she was surprised at his dancing ability was an understatement. Given her own sudden ineptitude and inability to keep her feet, he deserved even more credit.

Vaguely she was aware of the crowd around them, muttering to themselves at the sight of student and former teacher dancing easily. More acutely she pinpointed the sight of Ron being escorted from the room by a pair of Aurors, cameras flashing all the while as he called her a harlot and Harry a bastard. Snape never said a word.

Hermione couldn't bring herself to look up and meet his gaze. She was sure that if she did, she might blurt out apologies for hurting him or perhaps even babble a confession of adoration and how much she'd missed him. And so they danced in silence while her heart tried to burst from her chest and her face glowed pink for all to see.

When the song ended, she expected that he would lead her off the dancefloor, effectively saving her from Ron, acknowledging her and then discarding her once more.

"Are you going to look at me or have you commenced a staring match with my top button, Miss Granger?" Snape drawled when, instead of releasing her, he led her into another dance, this one slower.

Hermione's head jerked up, her eyes wide as she gaped at him.

"I… I'm being rude. Sorry," she stammered, her eyes darting between each of his and threatening to plunge into them. Gods, she could get lost in their darkness.

"That's all you have to say to me?" he asked, arching one eyebrow. "After all this time?"

Hermione's heart pounded even faster and roared so loudly in her ears she wondered if he couldn't hear it too.

"Erm… well, I wouldn't want to overwhelm you with babble or with questions you're likely tired of answering this evening, sir," Hermione choked out. Merlin, the room was spinning – and not just from the dancing. He was here. He was talking to her! Holding her, even.

"I'm no longer your teacher, Miss Granger," he purred, that silken voice caressing her ears and making her weak in the knees. Gods, she was going to faint. "There is no need for you to call me 'sir'."

"I… um. Yes, sir. I mean… shit! Sorry, sir. Oh, bollocks!" Hermione wanted the floor to swallow her whole. A smirk crawled across Snape's face at her obvious discomfort.

"Such language, Miss Granger?" he clucked his tongue, arching a supercilious eyebrow at her and Hermione wanted to die.

"If I'm not to refer to you as 'sir' or 'Professor', I'd prefer for you to use my first name over my title, Snape," she managed, a flare of annoyance penetrating her panic.

If anything, his smirk grew wickeder, his mouth curling at the corners while his eyes danced his cruel amusement.

"Oh, you'd prefer it, would you, _Hermione?_ "

The sound of her name slipping off his silken tongue made her wet. Indeed, her heart skipped a beat and she felt a pulse of attraction throb through her, centering on her core and dampening her knickers. Merlin's little green apples, this was _not_ going well.

"I… oh, bloody hell. I'd almost forgotten," Hermione muttered, more to herself than to him. He arched that wicked eyebrow curiously.

"Forgotten what?" he purred, dipping her suddenly in time with the music and almost making her swallow her tongue. Hermione didn't answer him until he righted her once more, her eyes darting over his face and drawing in every detail.

"I'd almost forgotten your singular ability to crawl under my skin and rob me of my equilibrium," she said boldly, holding his gaze and watching for his reaction.

There was something in his eyes – a flash, gone too soon – at her words. He didn't respond to her statement and Hermione allowed him to revolve them slowly across the floor.

"How have you been?" she ventured when he made no move to speak, simply holding her gaze and unsettling her all the more. It occurred to her that he might be using Legilimency on her at that very moment, but she didn't bother with her shields. If he was snooping inside her head, she doubted he'd like what he found.

"As well as can be expected," he answered without really answering at all.

"I've been reading your articles," Hermione told him.

Again, that eyebrow rose in condescending question.

" _Nom de plumes_ don't become you, Snape," Hermione whispered. "Your article on the validity of figwort in Forgetfulness Potion was most intriguing."

His eyes gleamed with understanding.

"Tell me, _Hermione,_ " he began, that voice low and just sidling up to being cutting. "Has it been too long since I've _divested_ you the notion of actually knowing everything?"

Hermione's cheeks cut a delicate shade of pink at the way he said 'divested'. Gods, her knickers were soaked recalling the last time the word divested had applied to the two of them.

"Undoubtedly, Professor," she murmured. He scowled at the title but didn't bother trying to correct her for it again.

"Allow me to relieve you any notions of cleverness, then. I've no idea what you could be referring to. Article writing has never been my forte. I am a brewer of potions and nothing more. Whatever you think you know about how I spend my time outside the public eye is incorrect."

"If you say so," Hermione shrugged delicately, knowing better than to argue with him. "However, I do recommend the writings of Tobias Prince, Herbert Beauchamp Peters and Sven Erusnap. I found their work most informative and I do believe that every Potioneer would be better off adhering to their findings."

Snape's eyes flashed at her for a moment before he looked away and she smirked to herself.

"Indeed?" he said. Hermione knew she'd proved him wrong and that he wouldn't admit it.

"Oh yes," she went on, smiling widely – genuinely – for the first time all evening. "Most informative. I've also found, during my research that a certain Critic going by Devil's Advocate has a particularly sharp wit. I'm certain that during times when you require a pick-me-up, you will surely find it amid the cutting, cruel flaying of articles put forward in _Potioneer's Prophet._ Highly amusing, often I chuckle at the decimation of many years hard work with mere quill-strokes."

"Devil's Advocate?" he sneered. "A more presumptuous name for a critic I'm sure I've never heard."

"To each their own," Hermione chuckled. "Oh, dear."

"What?" he asked, glancing back to meet her gaze at her sudden exclamation.

"Don't look now, sir, but it seems your willingness to dance with others beyond your date and your former colleagues has raised the hopes of your fans. A flock of fools appear to be converging upon us."

Snape glanced around in confusion.

"Undoubtedly it is because the music has stopped," Hermione murmured quietly, noticing that all she could hear was the giggling and hissing of the other women wishing to claim Snape and the muted roar of many voices. Snape's eyes met hers again and she realised with some surprise that he hadn't noticed the music coming to a halt either.

"Come," he commanded softly, his hand sliding from the small of her back to caress her hip as he pulled away. Hermione almost did. Right there, in her knickers, in front of everyone.

When he tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and led her in the opposite direction from the women seeking to fling themselves at him, Hermione hid her smile. He led her quickly to the enormous fountain in the middle of the room, accepting two of the goblets of heady elf-wine when a Cherub handed them to him.

Hermione watched him release her carefully before lifting the goblet to his lips and taking a big gulp. Dimly she was aware that the music had stopped because a speech was being made. Kingsley stood upon a dais not far from the fountain, speaking about the cherubs, their work and the importance of all magical creatures within their world.

Not far from them, across the pond of the fountain, Narcissa Malfoy and many others could be seen, politely listening. Hermione spied Harry and Draco beyond them. Harry was looking in her direction and shot her a wink from across the crowd.

She lifted her goblet to her lips and took a small sip before an iron grip closed over her wrist.

"Don't drink it," he warned in a low, furious voice. "Spit it out. Now. Do not swallow that mouthful, Hermione."

His tone had shifted from aloof and silken to the type of tone she hadn't heard since he'd been handing out detentions to her, Harry and Ron many years ago. Recognising the look in his eyes, Hermione spat the mouthful back into her cup and watched him throw both goblets into the fountain.

"To the wash-room. Now. You need to rinse your mouth," he commanded.

"Poisoned?" she asked, hurrying when he shoved her in that direction. "You need to warn the others."

"Not poisoned. Spiked. Run to the restroom. Now."

Hermione's blood ran cold and she dashed ahead of him, darting for the restroom. She hurried inside and rinsed her mouth thoroughly, hoping to Merlin that he was warning others before rinsing his own mouth, making himself sick if need be. He'd downed almost the entire goblet full before he'd caught her wrist.

Just as she straightened and peered at herself in the mirror, Hermione heard a wretched boom followed by screams. It rocked the foundations of the room and knocked her off her feet. Clutching at the sink, Hermione's wand was drawn as soon as she righted herself.

The screams from the main hall filled her ears as she opened the door and Hermione stepped out into chaos.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

There were bodies littering the area and Hermione's blood pounded in her ears. Bodies lay upon the floor surrounding the fountain while more people ran and screamed. The fountain itself was in pieces, spiked liquor sprayed over many, and more rushing across the floor in a tidal wave of wine. Stepping back to dodge the flow of people and the liquid itself, not trusting it one bit, Hermione looked on as something even worse than death gripped those who had survived the blast to be doused with the spiked wine.

It wasn't just spiked. No, spiked was too simple an idea. Hermione looked on with her hands over her mouth as all those who'd been doused began to rapidly shrink, their bodies collapsing in on themselves, their robes suddenly loose and oversized upon smaller, more compact bodies.

_De-Aging potion_ , she thought with horror. Adult bodies rewound the clock upon themselves, shrinking, becoming more child-like. Hermione thought she might be truly ill when some raced so far backward in age that they were babies once more. Babies crying amid piles of material that no longer fit.

No. It couldn't be. Who would do such a thing? Why? What did they seek to achieve by De-Aging many amid the wizard population?

The answer came when suddenly, cherubs, pixies and all manner of other creatures associated with love within the wizarding world suddenly flashed into the room, giggling and cackling with glee.

"Now our job will begin again!" One large, fat cherub in a lion-cloth screamed, leaping to the top of the dais. "You have failed, wizards! You go to war and still you express none of the love and reproduction required in the world! We _must_ have work and now we shall! Children once more, you must seek love all over again and boost your population with those of _our_ choosing, not yours. You are all fools bent on fame and fortune and overcoming war when you should be popping out more children to further your race!"

Hermione shook her head when the wretched little beasts all squealed and cheered in agreement before zipping away. They made a break for it as the commotion of screaming babies, squalling toddlers and young children drew attention. More people came running in response to the explosion. Hermione herself was scanning frantically, searching for her friends, anyone she knew.

A head of white blond hair caught her gaze beyond the fountain, a screaming toddler pulling at something amid the rubble left by the explosion.

Draco.

Hermione was moving toward him before she could even begin to rationalise what had happened. Beside him she recognised the messy black hair of a bespectacled boy whose glasses kept slipping down his nose while he tripped over the pile of pants that puddled at his feet and drowned in a sea of fabric from his shirt.

"Harry!" Hermione called, running to the boy.

He looked up at the sound of his name, but there was little recognition in his eyes. Something sparked just enough to know her, it seemed, but not enough that he could recall her name. Oh gods, surely the potion hadn't effected their minds, too?

"Oh, no. Harry, come here."

Hermione scooped up the little boy, wincing at how small he was. He couldn't be more than four or five years old.

"Harry, do you know who I am? Can you talk?" she asked him.

"I… you's mine," he said in a small voice, squinting at her. "Mione."

"Hermione, yes. That's right. Gods, do you know how old you are."

Harry looked down at himself, propped on her hip.

"Four?" he guessed.

"Oh no," Hermione breathed. She looked down when someone tugged on the front of her dress.

"Help!" a child-sized version of Draco Malfoy demanded, pulling on her skirt and gesturing to a blonde haired body in the rubble.

Hermione's heart clenched and tears filled her eyes when she spotted the still-adult body of Narcissa Malfoy. The potion hadn't affected her, it seemed. Meaning she'd been dead before much of it connected with her. The large bloodied hole in the side of her head seemed responsible.

"Oh god," she whispered, squatting and reaching for Draco with her free arm.

"You have to help!" he demanded, "She's my Mummy. Please? Please help?"

He was crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

Hermione pressed him a little closer to Harry, who reached for him and pulled the blond to him carefully while Hermione pulled out her wand and flicked it at Narcissa. A diagnostic spell. The shimmer of black mist that rose from her lifeless form pronounced her dead.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, cuddling Draco and Harry closer. "She's gone. She's… we need to leave. Now. Gods, there are so many."

Tears slipped down her cheeks as her eyes scanned the faces of the dead. She recognised many, though none of them in such a way that their deaths hurt her beyond knowing they were gone.

Searching further, Hermione spotted Kingsley, suddenly looking like a teenager again instead of a seasoned Auror and Minister for Magic. More adults were streaming into the room, stopping in their tracks in confusion at the sight of the many babies and children in the room. The initial wave seemed to have splashed many but not done enough to De-Age them too much. Suddenly those in their sixties looked twenty years younger.

They were milling about in confusion but in charge of their faculties and not a danger to themselves. It was the younger generation who suffered the worst. Those who had been completely doused reverted to being babies. Those, like Harry and Draco who'd been close enough to be swamped but not drenched, were toddlers once more.

She spied Ginny Weasley across the room, suddenly looking ten again instead of twenty-one. George was next to her, looking a few years younger than he'd been, perhaps nineteen again instead of twenty-five. He scooped up the young girl, shaking his head in confusion.

"Hermione?" he asked, spying her when she scooped up Harry in one arm and Draco in the other, propping the toddlers on each hip.

"Gods, George? You remember who I am? Are you alright? Is Ginny? Oh, no." She spotted Luna standing around looking confused, no more than seven years old.

"I'll get her," George said, frowning when he spotted her. "I remember everything, I just feel… funny. Younger. Am I as bad as them?"

"You look nineteen again," Hermione told him. "Were you drinking the wine?"

"No, I've got my flask of whiskey," George said. "But I got splashed a bit. Looks like the ones who were drinking it and doused have De-Aged the most and lost some of their memories. Do Harry and Malfoy know you?"

"Harry called me 'Mione," Hermione nodded. "Draco's mother… George, Narcissa is dead."

"Ah, shit," George cursed. "We need to get these kids out of here. The longer they're exposed, the worse it could get. Come on. Can you apparate them both to the shop? We need to get some Puking Pastilles into them before the wine does any more damage and get them out of these clothes."

Hermione nodded. "I can do it. Wait…"

Her eyes landed on someone across the room, her mind telling her who it must be but simply _couldn't_ be.

"Snape!" she called, hurrying towards him. He was leaning against the wall, slumped and slightly dazed.

He drew his wand on her, quick as lightning, when she hurried toward him. Merlin's little green apples, he looked young. He looked far closer to her in age that he'd done a few minutes ago. Indeed, his clothes were drenched.

"Do you know who I am, Snape?" Hermione asked of the man.

He looked at her through dazed eyes, his wand still pointed at her. He blinked.

"Granger?" he asked. "I know who you are. Do I look younger?"

Hermione nodded grimly. "Did you spit out the potion? Make yourself sick to be rid of it?"

"As well as I could before the explosion. I got drenched," he waved a hand at his clothing, lowering his wand. "Is that… Draco?"

Hermione nodded, recalling the man was Draco's godfather. With Narcissa dead and Lucius still in prison, Draco's care would fall to him until a solution could be found.

"Come with us, please," she begged of the man. "George and I are headed for his shop. He's got products that will make them vomit up the wine. Drinking it seems to be affecting their memories. He didn't have any of the wine and remembers everything but Harry barely knows who I am."

"Give me Draco," he said in a low voice, hauling himself up the wall and shaking off the effects of losing fifteen years of aging in one fell swoop. "Where is Narcissa?"

"Dead," Hermione whispered. "Draco was trying to pull her from the rubble. She died in the blast."

Snape closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"Sev?" Draco asked in a small, thick voice. His nose was stuffed from crying and his cheeks were wet.

"It's me, Draco," Severus nodded, holding his arms out for the boy.

"Hermione? We've got to get to my shop now," George said. "Ginny's shrinking by the second in these clothes."

Hermione looked over, seeing the girl did indeed look nine now, instead of ten.

"Hurry. You know the way, Snape?" Hermione asked, pulling on the shirt swathing Harry's young form until he was naked.

He didn't protest, though he did curl into her a little more, hiding his face against her shoulder. Hermione pressed a kiss to his hair as Snape nodded at her sharply, stripping Draco as well before turning on the spot and Disapparating with a crack.

Hermione copied him, landing with a pop inside George's store. Harry groaned in her arms and she set him down, just having time to hand him a cauldron before he vomited into it. Draco retched too when Severus appeared behind her, conjuring a cauldron for the boy just in time. George was right behind them, clutching Luna and Ginny.

"Get them out of these clothes," he muttered to her, thrusting both girls towards Hermione. "I'll get the Puking Pastilles.

"Ginny? Love? Do you remember who I am?" Hermione asked the girl. "We need to get you out of your wet clothes, sweetheart. Luna, come here. You need to take off your dress, alright? It's making you sick."

"I want my Daddy," Luna whispered to her, letting Hermione strip her quickly.

"I know, darling. I promise we'll take you to him soon. We've just got to get you a bath and you need to eat something George is going to give you. It will make you sick so you don't lose your memory."

George hurried over with the sweets and some more buckets for the girls, giving them each the candy.

"Snape, you better have one too. Just to be safe," Hermione told him, straightening to her full height when all four of her friends began retching. George oversaw them, letting them all vomit five times each before stuffing the antidote down their throats. They were all crying by the time they stopped vomiting.

"I'll run them upstairs and get them bathed," George said, already stripping out of his damp shirt. "Hermione, did you get caught in the wave? You don't look any different."

"No, I was in the loo. I almost swallowed some of the wine, but Snape realised it was spiked with something and made me spit it out and rinse my mouth."

"Bloody hell," George muttered, hustling the kids up the stairs. The girls ran up while George bent to scoop Draco and Harry when they're little legs fumbled the steps thanks to the way they cried. "Snape. Eat the purple end to make yourself sick. Once you think it's cleared your system, force the blue end down, yeah?"

He nodded to them both.

"Hermione, I could use a hand," he called over his shoulder when Hermione watched Snape turn away to ingest the candy and retch. He heaved a few times before vanishing the mess. Just as he turned back to her, a sharp crack of Apparation rent the air.

"Neville?" Hermione asked, lowering her wand and catching Snape's arm to force his wand down, too.

He looked fifteen again. It was a miracle he'd been able to apparate.

"Hermione?" he asked, his eyes darting to Snape and back again. "I… I think I might be…"

"You need to eat a Puking Pastille before you lose your memory as well as years on your body," Hermione told him. "Quickly. Ingest it so that you'll throw up. The wine was spiked."

Neville nodded.

"And get out of those wet clothes. They're De-Aging you even more. Make yourself sick and then strip. George has the others upstairs bathing the potion off. They're so young. I need to help him. Snape, you should help too…. Oh, fuck!"

He startled when she looked at him.

"You need to strip," Hermione said, hurrying forwards. "Quickly. You're getting younger before my eyes. You'll be younger than me shortly."

He growled in the back of his throat before tearing his shirt off. Neville did the same thing before they both stripped out of their trousers.

"Upstairs, quick. You need to wash it off."

Hermione hustled both men up the steps, hurrying behind them. She found all four kids in George's bathroom, standing under the engorged shower head and clinging to George's legs. George was standing in his boxers, frantically ensuring all five of them rinsed off.

"There you are. Ah, shit! Neville, look at you! Get in here. Snape, you too."

He flicked his wand, making the entire shower bigger and creating more shower heads out of thin air. Draco immediately ran to Snape when he stepped under the spray, clinging to his legs and still crying. Whether he understood that his mother was dead was a mystery.

Hermione stood there impotently, watching Harry. He was so small. No more than four years old, he blinked the water from his eyes, his too-big glasses still hooked over his ears but sliding down his nose. He seemed confused and scared.

"Harry, come here," Hermione called gently, flicking her wand to conjure enough towels for all of them. Harry looked over at her, blinking in confusion for a moment because his glasses were wet.

He scuttled towards her when he recognised her.

"Mione," he whispered, letting her wrap him in a towel.

"Merlin little green apples, you're so small," she whispered to him, cuddling him inside the towel as she squatted on the floor. She scrubbed his messy hair dry, letting him dry himself quickly.

"We need clothes for all of you. Bloody hell."

"Mum's," George said. "We'll have to head to the Burrow. Mum keeps all of our old stuff – whatever could be salvaged – in storage in the attic. There'll be something there to fit them all, I'm sure. Ginny, love, come on. Dry off and well take you home."

Ginny nodded mutely.

"I want my Daddy," Luna said again.

"I promise we'll Floo him just as soon as we get to the Burrow, Luna," Hermione promised, handing the young witch a towel. She looked seven. Her hair was the same, long and blonde, falling almost to the back of her knees thanks to her shortened stature, but everything else was smaller.

"Mione?" Harry whispered, cuddling her. "I… what now? I don't have…"

Hermione's eyes widened when she realised what he was saying. He was a child once more. Just a little boy. He needed to be protected and cared for. There was no way of knowing whether or not he even remembered how to look after himself. And he didn't have any parents. He was an orphan. James and Lily were dead. Sirius was dead. Remus was dead. There was only her.

"I know," she whispered, more tears trickling down her cheeks. "But I'll look after you. Even if you don't remember who you are and how much I love you, I'll look after you."

Hermione looked up to find George and Neville both watching her.

"Mione?" Harry asked again.

"Yes Harry?"

Harry looked towards Draco and pointed at him where Snape was in the process of drying him off and trying to console the small boy.

"Draco's mum is dead, isn't she?" Harry asked. "Like mine."

Hermione nodded.

"His dad is in prison," Harry whispered, showing he remembered that too. "He… he's got no parents either."

"I'm his godfather, Potter," Snape spoke softly. "I'll raise him again."

Harry nodded.

"I know who I am," he told her. "I know what I've done. I know I love him."

Hermione smiled gently.

"We'll find a way to fix this, Harry. I promise," Hermione swore to him. "Even if it kills me, I promise I won't rest until I find a way to fix you. All of you."

"I…." Harry opened his mouth and blinked those beautiful green eyes at her for a long moment. "I don't know if I want you to. I… my childhood was so rubbish the first time…."

Hermione stared at him, startled.

"You… want to be a kid again? It won't feel like a childhood if you remember everything, Harry. It will just be frustrating because you'll have the mind of an adult but the body of a child. You'll have less control over your magic while you grow again."

Harry nodded, frowning a bit.

"That's not necessarily… true," Snape spoke from behind them and Hermione looked over to see him standing in robes transfigured from his towel. He had Draco propped on his hip, the small boy's face pressed into his neck as he continued to cry for the loss of his mother.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I mean they're going to forget," he said. "I barely drank a mouthful of that wine and I've forgotten most of the last three years. If they were all drinking it in large amounts, they will lose more of their memories. Vomiting it up will have helped, but some of the damage has already been done."

"You mean…" Hermione whispered.

"I mean that until we get an antidote into them, they will continue to lose some of their memories. They might very well De-Age mentally until they are close to the same age as they currently are physically. This magic was more than mere potions. Those Cherubs and Pixies enchanted it. It is supposed to reset the clock, so to speak. To change the fates of the world. Those who might've ended up together will instead grow up a different age, at different rates, with different people. The wave and the explosion caused the physical rewind. Ingesting it means it works the way a De-Aging potion is meant to. It reverts the drinker to a younger age mentally. Judging it based on my memory loss, one mouthful equates to three years lost. If they all had roughly one glass, they might potentially lose twelve or fifteen years of memory. They will, essentially be children all over again."

"But I remember everything?" Neville said. "I was drinking the wine all night."

"It wasn't spiked until the speeches began," Snape said. "If you didn't consume any of it after the speech began, you shouldn't lose your memory."

Hermione nodded her head slowly.

"They're going to forget who we are?" Hermione asked.

"Possibly," Snape said, adjusting Draco on his hip. "They need clothing."

"We'll have to Floo to the Burrow," George said. "The Apparation point outside the wards is too far for them to walk, naked, in this weather."

Hermione scooped up Harry in his towel and led Luna – wrapped in her own towel – by the hand down the steps to the fireplace once more. Snape followed her with Draco and George held Ginny's hand; Neville brought up the rear.

She stepped through the fireplace first, dropping Floo Powder and clutching Harry until they landed.

"Hermione? Is everything…. Oh no? Harry?" Mr Weasley asked, leaping to his feet in surprise.

Hermione looked out to see Molly, Arthur and Ron at the kitchen table. Ron had been given Sobriety Potion, by the looks of things.

"Harry?" he asked thickly, his eyebrows lifting. "He's… Dad, that's a kid."

Harry turned in her grip just as Luna and Ginny Flooed in behind them.

"Ginny!" Molly cried at the sight of her daughter looking ten all over again.

"There was an accident at the Ministry," Hermione explained as George came through while Molly threw herself on Ginny, cuddling the girl to her. "The pixies caused a fountain to explode. It was filled with wine spiked with De-Agin potion. A lot of people are dead. More are like this. De-Aged."

Neville popped through the first place and Ron exclaimed in shock at the sight of him, a teenager once more. Snape came through last, clutching Draco to his chest.

"Narcissa Malfoy is dead," Hermione went on. "Draco and Harry both caught enough potion to De-age them back to being tots."

"Who are… Severus?" Arthur asked, squinting at Snape.

"Arthur," Snape nodded. "George said you'd have clothes in storage that might still fit them. Everyone has bathed the potion off but the children are naked."

"Bloody hell! Snape?" Ron spluttered, looking at the Potions Master. "You look twenty-five!"

"Arthur, if you've some Radish-Weed, we all need to ingest it. The nature of the potion when drunk will cause significant memory loss. Something to neutralise the effects before they forget their toilet training is in order."

"Right. Shit. George, mate, you look younger than Ron! Radish-Weed. Blimey, Molly, where do you keep it?" He tore through the pantry, tossing things aside wildly.

"Harry, darling, do you still remember who I am?" Hermione asked him.

"You're Mione," he nodded. "But things are getting… fuzzy."

Hermione looked at Snape with wide eyes.

"Do you know who that is?" she pointed at Draco in Snape's arms.

"Malfoy," he nodded. "I'm not going to forget him, Mione. He's the love of my bloody life."

"Don't say bloody," Hermione scolded automatically at the word coming out of the mouth of a child.

Harry snorted at her.

"Yes, Mum," he muttered.

Hermione's heart clenched. Just last week he and Draco had been asking her to birth then each an heir. Now it looked like she might instead play mother to them, rather than their offspring.

"Radish-Weed. Here it is," Arthur hurried to Snape, opening it up. Snape picked out a slice of the weed and stuffed it in his mouth before chewing it hurriedly. He did the same to Draco, forcing the boy to eat it. Hermione took the canister and fed some to Harry and then Luna while Arthur gave Ginny some.

"George, Neville, you too," he said.

"Don't need it," George refused the jar. "Only lose memories if you drank the wine. I didn't drink it, just got sprayed with it in the explosion. Ginny got soaked and she was drinking it. Dad, they're going to need help at the Ministry. A lot of people are dead."

"What about Kingsley? Is he… alive?"

"He's alive, but he looks like a teenager again," Hermione said, I spotted him in the crowd. "Actually someone should go back and warn everyone to strip, bathe and get them eating Radish Weed immediately."

"We'll go," Neville, George and Arthur said.

"Molly, love. Clothes for the kids. Quickly, their shivering. Hermione, Severus, can you handle things here until we get back?"

"We'll be fine," Hermione assured him.

"Ron, you come with us. George, do you use Radish Weed in your products?"

"No, but I know where to get some. You three hit the Ministry, I'll get the stuff and meet you there."

They all nodded before disapparating sharply.

"Let's get you dressed," Hermione told Harry. "Molly, where are the boxes?"

"In the attic. Accio!" she called, flicking her wand. "Oh, this is terrible. My little girl…"

Ginny pushed her mother's hands away.

"I'm fine, Mum," Ginny said. "I mean, I've lost enough memory that I think I might need to re-take my NEWTs, but the important things are still there."

"What do you remember?" Snape asked. "The War?"

"I know we won," Ginny nodded, frowning. "I don't remember _how_ we won, but I know it's over. I know you were on our side all along. I know I dated Harry and we broke up. But I feel like other things are disappearing. Did I play for the Harpies? Wait… was I dating someone?"

"You did play for them," Molly told her.

"Hermione?" Luna asked softly, tugging on the hem of her dress as the boxes Molly wanted came whizzing into the kitchen.

"Oh, Luna. Let's get you some clothes and I'll Floo your father, alright?"

Luna nodded and Molly began unpacking the boxes of clothing quickly.

She stood Harry on his feet and watched him hurry to Molly accepting one of the many sweaters Mrs Weasley had knitted throughout her life along with some trousers. Draco was still crying and Hermione watched Snape carry him forward to receive something to wear while she made for the Floo.

"Xenophilius?" Hermione called when she'd Floo'd Luna's house. "Are you there?"

The man spun to look at her.

"Hermione Granger?" he asked, dressed in his house coat and slippers.

"Yes, it's me. Listen, I need you to come through to the Burrow. There's been an accident. Luna needs you."

"My Luna!" he cried, his eyes widening in alarm. Hermione pulled back from the fire just before he tumbled through to find his daughter being handed a pair of floral pyjamas by Molly.

"Luna!" he cried, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

"Daddy!" Luna raced to him in just her towel, hugging him tightly.

"What happened? Why do you look so young?" he asked.

Hermione explained to him quickly while helping Harry into his trousers and some socks, sitting him on the kitchen table. She looked over when Draco's jumper suddenly landed in a pile next to Harry. Snape was struggling to get the boy dressed, obviously unused to handling such young children.

Hermione frowned, moving forward to help him without even thinking. He looked at her sharply when she caught Draco's wildly flailing arms.

"Draco, darling?" she said softly, peering into the boy's tear-stained face.

"Granger?" he blinked at her.

"I know you're upset, love," Hermione whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I know you're scared and confused. But you need to get dressed. You're shivering with cold."

"I want my Mother."

"I know," Hermione whispered, releasing his arms when he stopped flailing, more tears trickling down his cheeks. "Come on, love. This arm first, now the other one. There. Aren't you warmer?"

He reached for her automatically, wrapping his arms around her neck and clinging to her. Harry stood and scuttled closer, pulling at Draco's leg until Hermione lowered into a crouch.

"Potter?" Draco asked in a thick voice, turning towards Harry when Harry ran a hand through his hair comfortingly.

"It's me," Harry whispered. "I…"

He almost fell over when Draco threw himself at Harry, cuddling into his arms securely. Hermione looked up at Snape.

"Do you have any Calming Draught?" she whispered while both boys cuddled one another. It clenched her heart knowing they loved each other and remembered each other yet seeing them so little.

"I can make some," Snape said, tilting his head toward the cauldron and small brewing station Molly kept in the corner.

"Please?" Hermione nodded. "He's distraught and losing more memories is going to make things worse. Can you make it strong enough that they'll sleep?"

He nodded silently. Hermione couldn't help staring at him for a moment. He looked so different from the man she remembered. His eyes and his hair were the same, as inky in their darkness as they'd ever been, but everything else was different. The age-lines around his eyes and the wrinkles around his ever-scowling mouth were gone. His nose looked just a little less hooked and pronounced. He looked less worn, as though the toll of his position during the war had been erased.

"You look so young," she whispered before she could helped herself, her hand reaching for his cheek, intent on stroking the smoothness of his pale skin.

He caught her wrist just before she could make contact, his grip tight and unforgiving.

" _Don't_ touch me," he hissed softly. Hermione's eyes widened at the arctic chill in his eyes as he stared at her. Her stomach dropped, clenching painfully and her heart fell into her shoes. Apparently dancing at the ball and him saving her from the same fate as her friends and himself didn't equate to having forgiven her for their last interaction.

Hermione supposed, without the past three years of memory to dull what they'd done, it would be rather fresh in his mind that he'd taken her virginity.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling her hand back carefully and stepping back from him. She looked at her shoes, unable to hold his intense gaze any longer when she was sure she must look a mess and obviously wasn't wanted.

Stepping back, she crossed the kitchen and filled the kettle. Tea. Tea fixed everything. She didn't dare look at him again, not even when he moved over to the sink beside her to rinse the cauldron clean before beginning to brew.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Hermione held her breath as she watched Harry and Draco drink the tea she'd spiked with Calming Draught. She thanked the stars Snape was such an accomplished brewer and that the potion was a simple one, only having taken twenty minutes to brew. Both boys drooped almost immediately and Hermione used her wand to keep them for dropping their teacups as their eyelids descended. Ginny dropped off few seconds later and Luna fought the effects for a moment before drifting to sleep in her father's arms.

"We need to know how old they are," Molly said softly, looking forlornly at the four children. "Draco's got a small bump on his head, too. We need to make sure none of them were injured in the blast."

She began casting diagnostic spells over Ginny.

"Ten," she whispered after a moment. "My girl, ten years old again."

"We'll find a way to fix it, Molly," Hermione promised, squeezing the woman's hand. She was trembling too much to continue and Hermione checked over Luna.

"She's got a sprained wrist from falling. And according to this physically she's eight years old again, Mr Lovegood," Hermione said. She watched Snape sneak Calming Draught into the tea Molly and Xenophilius were both drinking while they regarded their children despondently.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered staring at the small boy where he sat, his head pillowed on his arms and resting on the table. He clutched one of Draco's hands.

When she waved her wand over him she had to cover her mouth with her hand. Four. According to the charm he was physically four years old. Tears filled her eyes once more at the very idea of him so young; so small; so helpless. His health check came back clean, a quill noting down his height, age and weight. She performed it again on Draco. The charm indicated he was just a month older than Harry – just like he already had been. Also four years old. Molly had been right. He had a bump on his head and a twisted ankle, too.

She flicked her wand to heal both injuries, noting that Snape was peering over her shoulder and reading the measurements for the boy. He frowned slightly as though they bothered him. She supposed, given that he was Draco's godfather and now in charge of his care, it was a bit problematic that the boy was so young once more.

"May I test you too, Snape?" Hermione asked quietly, turning her wand slowly in his direction.

He eyed her coolly for a long moment and Hermione felt a prod against her mind as he tried to read it. She allowed him entrance, showing him that she only wanted to ascertain his age and his health after what had happened to him. He looked slightly uncomfortable, as though the idea that she cared at all seemed to bother him, but he nodded his consent. Hermione cast the charm once more, blinking when she stared at the number. Snape's eyes darted to it as well, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

Twenty-six.

He was now, technically only three years older than her, rather than nineteen. Hermione's frown deepened when she noted that it said he had a concussion, a sprained ankle and a hairline fracture in his wrist.

"You're hurt," she whispered. "Let me…"

She flicked her wand and his jaw clenched as the fracture in his wrist healed itself. He didn't cry out, but Hermione suspected it had hurt.

"You've got a concussion, too," Hermione said. "You're going to have to stay awake awhile, supervised."

"We need to get these kids to bed," Xenophilius said. "I should…. I'll take Luna home. Thank you, for bringing her home safely. I don't know what I would've done without my Luna."

His eyes were dry for the time being, but he looked tired.

"Get some rest, Mr Lovegood. If you notice any changes to her condition, you know where to find us," Hermione said kindly, helping him to his feet when he tottered slightly under Luna's slim weight, the Calming Draught perhaps a little strong.

"Thank you," he whispered to her once more before moving to the fireplace and Flooing home.

"He's right. I should get these kids to bed," Molly said.

"I can take Harry and Draco home, Molly," Hermione told her. "It'll be no trouble."

"Home?" Molly asked, looking dead on her feet. "There's…. this is Harry's home."

Hermione smiled kindly.

"You know you don't have the bed-space anymore, Molly. Harry's bed at our flat will fit the pair of them just fine. It has so far, anyway," Hermione explained the woman.

"But… they're just children. You're too young, Hermione. They need a mother. They need care."

"I assure you, I know what I'm doing," Hermione whispered, her heart clenching as she slanted a glance at Snape. "Professor Snape is Draco's godfather, so it'll be up to him how Draco is 'raised', this time around, depending on how badly their memories are affected. And I promised Harry I'd look after him."

"Hermione, darling, you've never raised a child. You don't know what you're doing. Especially a magical child. If he loses his memory and reverts to being four mentally as well as physically he could lose control of his magic or hurt himself. He needs proper meals and a schedule and… and… care."

Hermione smiled tightly.

"I know that, Molly," Hermione assured her. "I'm _very_ aware of the commitment and the requirements of being a mother to a magical child. I can assure you that I'm fully prepared for whatever outcome there is as a result of this accident."

"You would… throw your life away to raise him? Your career?" Molly asked, frowning at her.

"It's not like I need the money," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I can get by quite comfortably without working another day in my life, should it be required. I only work currently because of the changes I was trying to make within the Ministry and because I go mental without something to engage my brain. I hardly think the rights of magical creatures will be a priority at the Ministry after what happened tonight. My department will likely be shut down as everything I've worked for the past three years gets overturned and repealed while they scramble to restore order.

"For all I know, they might even sack me. The Ball tonight was meant to raise awareness about the Pixies and Cherubs because they've been suffering in recent years. The death toll during the war and the lack of a population boom following it have left them all greatly diminished in their powers and their use within our world. I was the one who pushed to have something done about all this. When they start looking for someone to blame, they'll probably point the finger at me."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders helplessly. She made to rake a hand through her curls before realising her hair was still in the up-do she'd worn to the ball. Cursing silently she flicked her wand to remove all the pins and undo it all. A soft sigh left her at the feel of her hair falling free to cascade about her shoulder and down her back once more.

"You don't have any of the things Harry will need, Hermione," Molly protested, obviously not liking the idea of letting someone so young and unattached raise a child. Hermione would be willing to put money on the idea that she was put out over the idea that Hermione wasn't married and therefore – in her opinion – shouldn't be raising a child.

"Clothes? Books? Toys? I'll get some tomorrow, when we have more chance to figure out how much of their memories are gone. With his mother dead and Lucius in prison, Draco's in the same boat. And you heard Harry, Draco's the love of his life. He's unlikely to forget him."

"You want to raise both of them?" Molly's eyes widened.

"Draco is mine to raise. I'm his godfather," Snape spoke up from the corner of the room where he'd retreated to clean up the cauldron and work station.

"You know less about raising children than she does," Molly protested. "You might've managed to scare the life out of them all at Hogwarts and to keep them alive well enough in a classroom, but you've no idea how to raise a four year old boy. For heaven's sake, Severus, you've been in hiding for three years. What sort of life would that be for a child?"

"Do you imagine yourself taking on the role and raising two more sons, Molly?" Severus asked in a silken voice, turning slowly to face the woman. "You're not as young or as lively as you used to be, witch. You'll be sixty-three this year, won't you? Hardly the age to be running after rambunctious four year olds."

"I run after my grandchildren, thank you very much!" Molly puffed up indignantly.

Hermione sighed.

"All the more reason not to burden yourself with two more, Molly," Hermione told her. "I assure you that I don't doubt your ability to raise them and I do not doubt I will call on your expertise as often as I need it. But I _need_ to do this."

She moved forward to card her fingers through Harry's messy hair.

"He's so little," she whispered, her eyes filling all over again. "So little and so precious. He… he said he wasn't sure he even wanted me to find a way to undo the De-Aging if it meant he might have a better childhood this time. I… could give him that. Merlin, this time last week I was talking to both of them about their eventual need for someone to mother an heir for each of them. I _need_ to take care of him. Of both of them."

Molly looked startled.

"You were… I didn't realise that you were… that way inclined… with both of them… I, Ron came home ranting about you and Harry, and of course the papers… I never expected that they had the right of it."

"They don't," Hermione held her hand up. "Ron was drunk and ranting about the same things he's ranted over since the Horcrux Hunt. He never got over the notion that I _must_ have been shagging Harry while he was gone. I wasn't. I've never slept with Harry. Or Draco. I've only had sex once, as a matter of fact, so I'd appreciate it very much if you would refrain from jumping to the conclusion that I must be a harlot just because I entertained the notion of helping two of my closest friends carry on their family names and their bloodlines when they asked, given that they can't do so with each other."

Hermione caught the way Snape's eyes widened ever so slightly at her frank manner when she mentioned the number of times she'd been intimate and indeed, Molly looked taken aback by the admittance and the discussion about sex.

"Needless to say, I've read – widely – on the subject of magical conception and raising magical children. Two small wizards with remnants of memory on how to act like adults instead of clueless children shouldn't be quite as difficult. I appreciate your concern, but I will _not_ budge on this subject, Molly. I will come to you if I need your help, but at least let me try."

Molly looked a little gobsmacked at the notion that she wasn't a virgin.

"When I saw that thing around your neck, I wondered," she murmured quietly, eyeing Hermione closely despite the Calming Draught in her system. "I've never seen it up close, so I'd no idea if you'd activated it or not."

Hermione glanced down at the _Tenebris Sanctus_ hanging around your neck.

"I hardly see how my sex life and my lack of virginity affects my ability to raise Harry and Draco," Hermione sniffed, her cheeks turning pink.

Molly shook her head.

"How did you plan to give them children, love?" Molly asked.

"I… well, that's a little… inappropriate. But I imagined conception would take place… the usual way. They both suggested a certain interest…"

Molly held up her hand.

"That's not what I meant," she said. "I meant, how did you plan to conceive at all when you've got that thing activated?"

Hermione looked at the Dark artefact hanging around her neck again.

"What do you mean? I know it's classed as a Dark object because of the blood aspect and the effect it can be used to when wielded against others but it's not really all that…."

Molly shook her head once more and Hermione trailed off, staring at her in confusion.

"The reason they're no longer popular isn't because of the danger they pose. I know all about them, love," Molly said, fishing one of her own from within the neck of her night-gown. It was older than Hermione's, and bore a different pattern, but it too glowed a brilliant shade of white – containing her innocence.

"I had no idea you had one," Hermione whispered.

"They fell out of fashion when women grew more interested in sleeping around and less interested in pledging themselves to one man for the rest of their lives. Not to mention when a little known side effect of their activation was discovered. I don't presume to know who gave that to you, Hermione dear, but you'd better find him. If you ever want to have children, you'll need him to conceive them. The _Tenebris Sanctus_ draws part of its power from the pledge it represents, that you will conceive life only with the man who deflowered you. They were popular back in the days when Sex Magic was performed in group rituals and rights. They ensured that any couples partaking in the rituals wouldn't have to worry themselves over accidentally raising children not their own. Husbands were fond of their uses for that reason.

"In theory the idea had merit. You see the appeal. The innocence contained within them allowed women with sexual experience to partake in rituals that called for Virgin sacrifices. The Powers that Be recognise any whose innocence is contained within one as still being virginal because the Virgin's Power resides in the orb. The drawback they later discovered was that those women who used them were magically bound to procreate _only_ with the man who took their virginity. Another appeal, you would assume, preventing pregnancy during such rituals to men not their spouses. But death does not release you from the oath. Do you imagine that there are so many women within our world who willingly for-went having children? Minerva, for example, desperately wanted children. However her first husband – to whom she gifted her virginity and stored it inside a _Tenebris Sanctus -_ died shortly after they were married. His death did not release her from her oath and she was left without a means to conceive once he was dead.

" _If_ you wished to conceive life with any but the man who deflowered you and caused you to activate the artefact, you're in for a nasty surprise, dear. They don't demand fidelity, of course – it would have stood in the way of the rituals they were designed to assist - but they do prevent you from falling pregnant to any but whomever deflowered you. Unless you find him and wish to procreate with him – assuming he is still alive - you will never be able to have children, Hermione."

Hermione's heart was in her throat, her face paling at the news. She didn't dare look at Snape.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Hermione feared she might faint. The floor was shifting and swimming beneath her feet, her head spinning uncomfortably. It simply couldn't _be_.

"When I saw that you had one," Molly went on, oblivious to Hermione's sudden wooziness and the way Snape's face had paled to such an extent that he looked deathly ill. "I assumed you wore it as an indication of your chastity, warning men away from you unless they were willing to help you in activating it and thus be the one who would sire your children. I see from your expression that I was mistaken."

Hermione nodded numbly.

"I…" Hermione choked. She was gripping the back of Harry's chair tightly enough that the wood groaned beneath her white-knuckles.

This couldn't be. Surely, it couldn't be?

"I didn't know," she whispered tightly, making certain to look anywhere but at Snape. "I… thank you for telling me. I'm going to just… go. I need time to think, and the boys need to be put to bed. I'll Floo you in the morning, Molly."

Molly eyed her worriedly, seeing the way she swayed slightly as she bent to scoop Harry out of his chair, laying his head on her shoulder and propping him on her hip. She reached for Draco with her other arm, staggering slightly under the weight of both children thanks to the unsteadiness of her knees. Snape caught her before she could fall, plucking Draco from her grip and curling the boy into his side.

"You can't take him to your place," she managed, still without looking at the man who, apparently, was her only hope at procreation.

"I most certainly can," Snape argued.

"He and Harry should be kept together, at least until we figure out how much they remember. They'll both be angry if we slipt them up. Draco's just lost his mother. He needs his boyfriend now, more than ever," Hermione argued, aware of the cold edge creeping into her voice. "Not to mention that _you_ have a concussion and should also be monitored to make sure you don't suffer any ill effects of the potion. I will _not_ allow you to slip off with a four year old Draco Malfoy, who might wake up tomorrow a helpless orphan, only to have you die during the night or slip into a coma or something. Either accept that we're going to mine and Harry's flat and putting them both to bed. Or amend the wards at your house to allow me entrance. Assuming, of course, that wherever you've been ruminating is equipped with a spare bed for two four year old boys?"

Her eyes jerked up to meet his and Hermione spotted the way his scowl twisted at the accusation in her expression. He obviously knew he was in big trouble and that as soon as they were free of Molly's hearing she would be unleashing her tirade on him for the mess he'd just landed her in – a mess he'd left her in for three long years after the best night of her life.

"Not equipped for them, then?" she asked tightly when he looked even more annoyed than usual. "My flat then. You first."

She nodded him ahead of her toward the fireplace and Snape scowled.

"You would do well to remember that though I now look similar in age to you, I am still your former Professor and will _not_ tolerate being ordered around by you, Granger," he hissed quietly even as he made for the fireplace.

Hermione's stare could have killed a small child, she was sure of it.

"You would do well to forget _any_ remaining vestiges of fear or deference you imagine I might've felt for you, Snape," Hermione replied icily.

"Are you quite sure you'll be alright with them, Hermione?" Molly asked.

Hermione turned back to the woman as Snape called out for her flat and disappeared in a roar of green flames. Ginny was levitating gently in Molly's hold.

"We'll be fine, Molly. Thank you, again, for correcting the rather egregious oversight I apparently made when researching the _Tenebris Sanctus_. I will be sure to get in touch with the man who gave it to me as soon as possible."

"I'll be here if you need anything, dear." Molly smiled gently, looking half-asleep herself. It was late in the evening after all, bordering on midnight now, and she'd been dosed with strong Calming Draught.

Hermione smiled tightly at the witch before cradling Harry to her a little more securely and Flooing to her flat. Snape stood in her small living room where, just that morning, Hermione had sat with Harry and Draco, drinking tea and laughing about the headlines in the papers. He was looking about carefully, obviously unsure which way to go to put Draco to bed. There was also the small issue of Crookshanks, guarding the doorway into the hall and thus, the rest of the house. The ugly orange cat was puffed up and growling menacingly at Snape.

"Crooks, move," Hermione commanded of the cat. She stalked down the hall and into Harry's room, listening for the sound of Snape on her heels.

It was messy inside, filled with clothes that would no longer fit her best friend. When she carried the sleeping boy to the side he usually slept on and slid him under the covers he looked even more vulnerable than he'd done sleeping at the table in the Burrow. Silently, Snape followed suit, crossing to the other side of the bed and slipping Draco under the covers. Even in sleep, they reached for each other, Harry rolling across the bed to the middle and Draco squirming to meet him.

Tears filled her eyes, temporarily surpassing her anger at Snape, when they shuffled around until Harry threw his arm over Draco's hip, spooning the slightly smaller blond boy as he did most nights when Draco stayed over. Her face stung slightly in the cold air, her tear tracks making her shiver. She watched Snape watch them as well, his brow furrowed deeply as he stared at the pair of them for a long moment in silence before he turned away and made for the door.

Hermione caught his arm before he could pass, her fingers digging into his bicep through his robes. He glanced at her sharply, his eyes slightly narrowed. When she tore her eyes away from Harry and Draco, she glared into those fathomless pools of black.

"Did you _know_?" Hermione asked through gritted teeth.

She didn't have to explain for him to know what she referred to. His eyes dropped to the silver orb, glowing faintly in the otherwise dimply lit room and dangling free of her cleavage, where it usually rested. When he looked up at her once more, his face was utterly expressionless. He didn't speak. He gave no hint, one way or the other, as to whether he'd known that activating the wretched thing would trap her into only procreating with him for the rest of her life.

Hermione thought seriously about hexing him in the back when he jerked his arm free of her grip and stalked out of the room without saying a word. Flicking her wand to cast a warming charm for the boys, Hermione followed him out, pulling the door closed almost all the way so that she'd be able to hear either of them if they woke up, but also so that they wouldn't be unduly disturbed by the thunderous row she expected she and Severus Snape were about to have.

"Answer my question," Hermione hissed, following him into the kitchen where he proceeded to help himself to the kettle and her cupboards, opening and closing things until he found tealeaves, the teapot and two cups.

He was ignoring her. That much was clear. Hermione took a deep breath. She was bordering on hysterical after the rollercoaster of emotions she'd suffered all night long and if she didn't pull it together, she just knew she would say something in anger that she would live to regret. Severus Snape wasn't like Ron or Harry or even Draco. They would take her foul mood when provoked, or accept her disgust ashamedly when they earned it. They would fight back, get angry, shout, yell and scream at her if it was needed, but at the end of everything once it was resolved or they'd had time to cool off, they would all apologise and things were fine, if strained for a short time.

Severus Snape wasn't like them. He was cool-witted. Sharp. Cutting. Cruel to the point of sadism and he could take apart her heart with a few mean words if he wanted to, knowingly or not. He was also easily offended and prone to holding a grudge. If she told him he was a spiteful bastard and accused him of tying her to him before abandoning her to conceive and subsequently miscarry their unborn child, he would walk away and never forgive her. Probably after calling her a dozen terrible names, insulting her intelligence, wrecking her heart all over again and likely killing a large portion of her soul.

When he still didn't speak, Hermione didn't yell or demand more answers. She just turned and walked away. In the bathroom, she peeled herself out of her dress – stained now with wine and dust and rubble and what looked like a few flecks of vomit. She ripped her strappy heels from her feet and she glared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying, her make-up was smeared down her cheek, making her look rather like a panda with a meth problem. Her curls were rapidly frizzing out of control thanks to her barely contained anger.

Hermione scowled at the sight she made before turning the taps on in the shower and stepping under the spray. She was too angry to do anything but furiously scrub herself clean. There was no time for wallowing or worrying. Not with her brain running a mile a minute, looping over and over again that she was tied to Snape forever if she wanted kids and that he may or may not have tied her that way on purpose. As soon as she was dry once more, Hermione wrapped her towel around herself, stomping down the hall toward her bedroom.

At least, that was the plan until he stepped out of the kitchen and block her path before she could reach it. Hermione shivered when he raked his eyes over her flushed pink skin, almost all of it on display after her shower. She glared at him. She was having a hard time reminding herself that he'd had a rough evening. His date to the dance and a long-term friend was dead. His godson had been De-Aged and would now require his parental care. He'd been De-Aged himself and had lost a significant chunk of his memories. The past three years of his life had vanished from inside his head.

She assumed that he still knew they'd shagged and that he'd given her the _Tenebris Sanctus_ because he'd known where to look when she'd asked about it. It occurred to her that their past encounter would be a lot fresher in his mind right in that moment than it was in hers and she wondered if he recalled too that she'd written to him afterward, informing him of her pregnancy.

"Move," Hermione demanded, fighting to keep from unleashing her temper. "I refuse to argue with you whilst wearing a towel."

"I do not argue," he replied evenly, crossing his arms over his chest and levelling her a cool stare down his nose.

Hermione scoffed. "If you actually believe that you're going to stand there and talk down your nose at me without allowing me to return the favour, you are mistaken."

She attempted to step around him, but he moved to block her path once more.

"You're angry."

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him.

"Your lack of response to my questions suggests guilt," Hermione replied. "You gave me this fucking thing, Snape!" She clenched the glowing orb in one fist, scowling at him. "You were the one who gave it to me the second you realised I was a fucking virgin! And when I asked if you bloody knew that it means no one else on the fucking planet can knock me up, you don't even deign to answer me. So yes, you better believe that I'm angry. More than angry, I'm _furious_! How _could_ you?"

He recoiled ever so slightly in the face of her fury and her snarled demand.

"How could _I?_ " he hissed, those dark eyes flashing. "You prance around announcing that you were planning to let Harry fucking Potter _and_ my godson knock you up and you have the audacity… the fucking gall… to demand that of me? Maybe it's not so fresh in your memory, Granger, but in mine I recall receiving letters as early as yesterday indicating that you were pregnant with _my_ fucking kid! How dare I? _You_ aborted my child with as much ease as tossing away a book you don't want to fucking read! And then you have the gall to snarl at me because you apparently _can't_ have them with anyone else?"

Hermione blinked at him, shocked but his barely restrained fury. He literally vibrated with rage.

"Well, guess what, little girl? Your plans have all been foiled because as of tonight the two fuckers you were going to screw, are children. If you _ever_ want biological kids of your own, you'll have to have them with the sorry bastard who spawned the first one you murdered!"


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Hermione slapped him. A flash of hot rage seized her and before she could think better of it her open palm collided with his right cheek with a stinging snap. He barely flinched, but the ice in his gaze would've destroyed her were it not for her own fury. Unable to speak when she was so angry and tears were burning her eyes, Hermione darted past him into the kitchen and away through the other door into the dining room and then through to her bedroom at the other end of the hall.

He was right behind her and he caught the door in a feral grip before she could slam it closed. Hermione had never been so angry. Not in all her life. Not when she'd learned Ron was cheating on her. Not when they'd fought in the war. Not when her parents had disowned her in their terror after she restored their memories following the Final Battle. Not even when Snape had refused to respond to her letters about her pregnancy.

Stomping across the room, Hermione snatched up her dressing gown and pulled it on before dropping her bath towel. She was still naked underneath, but she felt a little more secure in her clothing and her ability to refrain from being exposed. When she turned toward him, her voice flicked out like the coldest arctic wind.

"Your memory is a little foggy right now, so allow me to fill you in on a few things, you _heartless_ bastard," she said, advancing on his slowly while he glared at her, blocking the door and levelling her such a look of hatred that she'd have feared for her life if not for her own fury. "I wrote to you _sixteen_ times when I realised I was pregnant. I wrote that I was scared, and that I didn't know what to do, and that you'd fucking knocked me up. I was _nineteen_ years old! You, at the time, were thirty-eight. You were my fucking school teacher, no matter the inappropriate thoughts _I_ entertained on a daily basis!"

Hermione stalked up to him slowly, refusing to acknowledge her slip of tongue about her fantasies about him that had landed them in bed together to begin with. He stood there, unflinching, his cheek a terrible shade of crimson in the shape of her hand-print.

"I told you that I was pregnant with your unborn child and what did you do, _Severus_? Did you write back to me, suggesting that it was a mistake you wish you'd never made? Did you write back saying you wanted me to get rid of the kid because the scandal would be too great and you obviously never wanted friends, let alone family? Did you even fucking _bother_ to reply at all? No! No, you couldn't even be arsed to acknowledge what we'd done after taking my virginity, forcing a dangerous artefact into my care, and then dissecting me with that wretched scalpel of a tongue until I felt lower than worthless for even _entertaining_ the idea that I'd mean more than a quick fuck!

"Instead, I got silence! My owls all went unanswered. I had to face not only the shame of knowing I'd given my virginity to a man who didn't give a _damn_ about me, but also the wretched truth that despite your apparent regret, I was fucking pregnant! I had to lower myself to the shame of even _daring_ to write to you. You! The most terrifying, heartless, cruel man on the entire planet! Do you know how much effort it took to even _send_ the first letter? And you didn't reply. You didn't reply to the following fifteen after it either, when I desperately tried to figure out what you wanted me to do about it and whether or not I shouldn't just run away to a foreign country for fear of being shunned in our world for having a child out of wedlock with a man who didn't deign to even answer my fucking owls!"

Snape opened his mouth as though he meant to argue with her, to deny receiving the owls or perhaps to tell her that the answer to the problem should have been clear. Hermione spoke over him, raising her voice before he could utter a sound.

"And now you have the fucking arrogance to get in my face? To triumphantly sneer that you trapped me into _only_ being able to have kids with you? To all but call me a whore for even thinking to help two of my best friends have kids when their other options were limited? You want to stand in _my_ Merlin cursed house and call me a fucking murderer?" Hermione seethed, advancing on him until she'd invaded his personal space. He glared down the length of his nose at her, his face flushing as his own anger began to rise.

Hermione reached up and gripped his chin, rising on her toes to stare into his eyes, brimming with hatred. He attempted to pull free of her grip but she didn't release him.

"You think I _aborted_ your child?" she asked in a low, cold voice. "You just assume to know how I handled the situation when you offered _zero_ input on the matter, despite the numerous times I asked for it? I _never_ aborted our child, Snape. I _would never_ abort our child."

"Then where the hell is my kid?" he demanded when tears filled her eyes, staring down at her and looking suspicious now in addition to being angry.

"I miscarried," Hermione whispered, tears trickling from her eyes to run down her cheeks once more. "I hung onto him for seventeen weeks before he gave up on me, too. There was an accident at work and a bookshelf fell on me. No one knew I was pregnant. I hadn't heard from you and I was too scared to tell anyone else. While everyone else thought I was recovering from the scare of almost being crushed and breaking a few ribs and my wrist, I was here. In this flat, by myself, sobbing into Crookshanks' fur while I miscarried my baby, all alone."

She released his chin with a little shove and stalked away from him, trying to control the urge she had to throw herself on the bed and sob.

"Murderer, you called me?" she asked when she reached her bedside table. She looked back over to find him standing in the doorway, suddenly stricken instead of angry or suspicious. Digging into her bedside drawer, Hermione withdrew a bottle of muggle anti-depressants. She threw it at him. "If I were a murderer, I probably wouldn't need to take those three years after the fucking fact! I wouldn't have had to toddle myself off to a muggle doctor for treatment for depression when I found myself sitting in the kitchen and using Slicing hexes on my flesh just to _feel_ something. I wouldn't have had to sit in a muggle therapy office every week for a fucking year to talk about how the man who meant more to me than he fucking _should_ have, took my virginity, called me an idiot, knocked me up and then refused to speak to me for the following three years!"

Angrily, Hermione wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dressing gown. She was so sick of feeling sad about what had happened and she'd thought talking to him, getting it all out there, admitting it all, might help. Hell, she'd thought even just seeing him again would help. But it didn't. It just ripped her heart open all over again

Unable to keep looking at him, she turned away. The thought that he wouldn't even admit, one way or the other, if he'd purposely trapped her into having kids with none but him ate at her psyche as she stared out the window to the small park across the street from her flat. The answer would give her some indication as to his feelings at the time and whether he'd maybe cared for her too or if she really had just been a shag of convenience who didn't want to shine his knob just because he was a bloody hero.

"You…" Snape began before trailing off, at a loss for words. Hermione fought the urge to look over her shoulder at him. She felt like she should check on Harry and Draco to make sure their fight hadn't woken both small boys. She _needed_ a cup of tea. Tea fixed everything.

But he was still blocking the door and apparently struggling with the contradicting facts to what he'd obviously believed she had done. There was no other way out of the room unless she Apparated. Hermione almost whacked herself in the forehead for not thinking of it. She couldn't keep standing there and thinking about it without a cup of tea. She would think herself into a panic attack or more fury. Or she would ball her eyes out all over again and she refused to let Snape see her so vulnerable. Scooping up her wand, Hermione turned on the spot and Apparated across the house to land in the kitchen.

The pot of tea he'd been making when she'd stomped off to the shower sat innocently on the kitchen counter. Still steeping. When she pressed her hand to the side of it she realised he'd put it on stasis charm. Lifting the lid, Hermione peered inside to make sure it hadn't grown too strong. She needn't have bothered. Like everything he brewed, it was perfect. Breathing in the scent of the freshly brewed tea, Hermione pushed away the thoughts of him that doing so always conjured.

She almost jumped when she turned, tea made the way she liked it, to find him standing the kitchen doorway. His eyes flicked to the cup of tea she'd made for him, perfectly primed with the adjustments he liked – one sugar and a dash of milk – before bouncing back to her face. His expression was as devoid of hints to his thoughts as it always was. The sight of him, so young now compared to the older version of him she'd been accustomed to, did uncomfortable things to her body and she cursed not having donned knickers.

It seemed emotional upheaval only increased her desire to shag him all over again. At this rate she was in danger of leaving a puddle on the floor. Watching him over the rim of her teacup, Hermione took measured sips. He seemed to need time to process what she'd told him. He also seemed to have deflated, no longer angry at her for potentially aborting his unborn child. Now he just seemed… confused.

She watched him when he sparked into gear once more, striding across the small kitchen and collecting the cup of tea she'd made for him. He sniffed it carefully, having learned his lesson after consuming De-Again Potion, apparently, or simply not trusting her not to poison him.

"Do you actually expect me to believe you were going to keep my child when I refused to speak to you?" he asked her, invading her personal space as she leaned against the counter. He stood close enough that Hermione had to tip her head back to hold his gaze, his superior height dwarfing her own.

"Have a look at the memories if you don't believe me," Hermione sighed, opening her eyes wide and calling forward the painful memories right from the minute she'd slept with him, and flipping through all the way to the days she'd spent suffering the wretchedness of her miscarriage four months later.

She felt him dive into her mind to view them, delving through them while she stared at him. It was disorienting, she thought, standing there staring into his eyes, seeing him before her whilst also seeing her memories in her mind's eye. He frowned slightly, she noticed, his brow furrowing further the longer he viewed the memories, watching her sob and pull at her hair in her bedroom while waiting for replies to letters that never came. He examined the ones where she curled her hands around her womb protectively, muttering to the baby growing within her about what a wretched man his father was for refusing to write back to her.

He watched her caress the taut flesh, barely beginning to thicken as she began to show, as she sang soft lullabies with tears in her eyes promising that the child would always have her, even if his father didn't want him. More flew by of her throwing herself into research on pregnancy and on raising magical children. He lingered over the one where she sewed enchanted sleeping sheets, pouring her magic and her hopes and protectiveness for her child into them as she began preparing for the eventual delivery that never came.

Worst were those of the pain in her lower abdomen and her shoulder following the accident at work. Her wrist and her ribs felt inconsequential in comparison to the deep, low ache in her womb and her lower back when the first spot of blood appeared in her knickers. Snape watched them all, through to the very end, where she sat on the toilet, peering through her fingers and her tear-blurred eyes at the tiny human-shaped lump of tissue that had worked its way from deep inside her. She recalled again the devastation as she'd taken in the sight of the tiny fingers and toes that had formed on the ends of hands and feet, arms and legs.

Lifeless.

Snape withdrew from her mind so gently she almost didn't notice. The touch of cool hands cupping her cheeks startled her out of her memories and Hermione blinked more tears from her eyes as she met his gaze. Even after witnessing it all, his eyes were dry and his face belied little of his thoughts.

"You… _wanted_ to keep my child?" he whispered. "Even though you were so young? Even though I'm a wretch? Even knowing all you know about my life – from the fact that I was abused and neglected; an angry, vindictive prick; a murderer; a Death Eater; a _horrid_ teacher; and all the way through to the heartless cunt too scared to write back to you when you told me you were pregnant. You _wanted_ to keep the child of such a man?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders helplessly and nodded as another tear trickled from the corner of her eye.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

To say she was startled when his face crumpled with some nameless emotion before he pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her to his chest would've been an understatement. Hermione tensed at the contact, his peppermint, herb and fresh tea-leaves scent clouded her mind, making her want to surrender her weight and her heart to him all over again.

Setting down her tea cup on the bench behind her, Hermione pressed her face into his chest and hesitantly put her hands on each of his bony hips. He slipped his arms around her shoulders, pressing him to him more firmly in what Hermione realised was meant to be a hug of comfort for all she'd been through and how little he'd done to help her.

"You never answered my question," she murmured into his chest when the light of her _Tenebris Sanctus_ stood out against the black of his robes, glowing softly. "Did you give me the orb knowing it would tie me to you?"

He tensed against her slowly, his body growing rigid once more.

"No," he answered. "I wasn't aware of that particular side-effect. I inherited it amid my mother's things when her vault was accessible to me upon her death. My small amount of research simply covered the activation at the spilling of Virgin Blood and the fact that using it stored the innocence, allowing the witch in question to continue practicing magic as a virgin when it was required."

"That's all I found, too," Hermione nodded.

"There is every possibility that Molly Weasley lied," he said, releasing her when Hermione lifted her head to stare at him.

"Draco never mentioned that particular side-effect when he asked me about mine," she offered, frowning a little bit before taking her teacup and slipping around him. As much as she had craved his presence during the last three years, she needed to move away or she was going to break down.

Hurrying into the next room, Hermione began pulling books off her shelves on the subject.

"Unfortunately the only other person I might've consulted on the matter is Narcissa and she is no longer able to tell us," Snape said quietly, following her into the room and taking up one of her books.

Hermione had already opened one for herself, dropping to sit on the couch and scanning it with her eyes, seeking some hint of truth behind Molly's words. She might not have noticed Snape staring at her rather than researching for himself if not for the fact that he had a particularly heavy stare. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, making her feel like she was being scrutinized in class all over again though she hadn't been his student in almost five years.

She ignored the sensation for as long as she could, discarding the book she'd been scanning and reaching for another without looking at him. She couldn't bear it. She had the terrible sense that he was going to ask her _why_ she had been hoping to keep the child they'd lost, in spite of everything. How could she answer him without revealing her feelings? She could hardly blurt out that she'd been in love with him since she was fourteen. That she'd been fascinated by him since she'd been eleven.

He wouldn't believe her, even if she did, but she doubted she had the courage to admit it so boldly.

Eventually, Hermione could take the weight of his gaze no longer and she tipped her head to meet his stare. He didn't look away despite being caught staring. Indeed, he simply continued watching her.

"What?" she eventually asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

A smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"You do recall you're wearing only a short night-gown, don't you?" he asked wickedly.

Hermione glanced down at herself, her cheeks flushing crimson when she realised that the way she was sitting meant the front of her night-gown was gaping open, just barely hiding her nipples. Indeed, he had an uninterrupted view of her cleavage line from clavicle to navel. Feeling herself flush with heat, Hermione shuffled to close the gaping garment.

His snort drew her attention and Hermione looked up at him again quickly. His eyes had left her chest and were now resting on the way she sat with her legs crossed into a pretzel. Jerking the tail of her robe, she made sure that her lady business was covered.

"Are you planning to help me figure this out, or are you legitimately going to sit there ogling me, Snape?" Hermione demanded, unsure if she should even be taking him seriously when he seemed so out of character as to ogle her.

He tipped his head to one side, regarding her in such a way that it made her whole body sit up and pay attention.

"Would you really have raised my child even if I hadn't ever replied to your letters?" he asked piercingly. Hermione wanted to wince.

"We've already covered this," Hermione muttered, looking back down at her book when she couldn't take the intensity of his stare. She bit her lip, trying to find the answer in the book she was scanning. It was difficult to concentrate with him watching her.

"Answer me, Hermione," he commanded softly, his tone just daring her to defy him.

Hermione's head jerked up again and she stared at him for a long moment.

"Yes, I'd have kept and raised him. I'd have sent you more letters when he was born, and pictures and letters as he grew to make sure that even if you didn't reply, you'd _know_ your child was growing up and getting by. I'd likely have sent you a number of rude letters as well, berating your cowardice if you continued to hide from the truth and would probably have tapered off to not sending anything by the time the child was a teenager, figuring that nothing I could do would lure you out of solitude, and blaming you for my having to raise him alone."

She maintained eye contact with him as she spoke the simple truths. His lips twitched as though the idea intrigued and pleased him.

"Now, are you going to help me find out whether Molly was correct about this thing preventing us from procreating with any but each other, or are you going to keep staring at me and making me uncomfortable?" Hermione demanded.

"I never used to make you uncomfortable," he pointed out. "I could stare at you all day and it didn't bother you."

"You've never stared at me all day, how would you know?" Hermione asked.

"Haven't I?" he challenged, arching that infernally arrogant eyebrow. Hermione narrowed her eyes on him.

She didn't understand what he was attempting to imply, but it was causing a riot of butterflies in her stomach.

"Just help me look for the answer, would you?" she muttered, looking at her book once more.

"No."

Hermione lifted her head to look at him again.

"No?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Don't you care that you might be stuck with me if you ever _do_ want children of your own?"

His smirk was wicked.

"I'm already stuck with you, witch," he replied.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Oh?" she asked.

He tipped his head in the direction of Harry's bedroom. "You have no intention of letting Malfoy and Potter grow up apart. And I have no intention of allowing anyone else to raise my godson the second time around. I also will _not_ raise Potter alongside Draco on my own. Thereby proving that you are already stuck with me, raising two children."

"There's no guarantee they won't be alright," Hermione frowned. "Yes, they're young, but they still have their memories. An Aging Potion might set them to rights once more."

He shook his head slowly from side to side even as he set aside the book he'd taken from her. He slid forward in his chair until he was peering at her seriously from little more than a foot away.

"When they awaken in the morning, they will not recall who they are. They might be smarter than average children… I'd go so far as to say they will be 'brightest of their age'. And they will carry echoes of the lives they have lived; residual feelings for those they loved. But come morning, both boys will be toddlers once more."

Hermione frowned.

"You sound awfully certain of that fact," she pointed out.

"I am," he nodded, shuffling a little further forward and lifting his hands. They hovered over the exposed curves of her knees for a long moment before he slowly, carefully lowered them to place them upon her flesh.

"Would you care to explain _why_ you're so certain of their fate?" she asked him, shivering at the touch of his cool hands against her skin.

"I've seen it before," he murmured. "The effects of an Age-Potion spilled upon someone. The effect of some of it being ingested. I have witnessed it before. Aging potion will not help them. Their memories will slip away. They might still feel an attachment to any they had strong feelings for in the life they lived before the accident but they will remember little else. Come dawn, the pair of them will be just two little four year old boys who need parents and guidance and to be shown how to properly brush their teeth and dress themselves."

"How do you know?" Hermione whispered. She wasn't expecting it when Snape offered her a sad smile she'd never seen him wear before.

"When I was at school, I knew a witch," he began, his eyes fixed upon her face. "She was bright and beautiful. She was my girlfriend, actually. Muggleborn. Clever and highly logical. You'd have liked her, I'm sure."

Hermione frowned. "Lily Potter?" she guessed.

Snape shook his head from side to side.

"No, not Lily. This clever girl and Lily were good friends though. Good enough that when I started dating her, Lily was the first person we told," he said. "As you know, the First War was brewing back then and I had an unfortunate infatuation with the Dark Arts. My girlfriend didn't mind as long as I didn't use the knowledge to harm anyone without cause. But others minded. The Marauders minded. Some of the older students who would become Death Eaters, too. They minded. They didn't like the tempering effect this girl had on me."

His eyes flashed dangerously for a moment, his hands tightening on her knees. Hermione's heart clenched inside her chest at the turn the tale was about to take.

"They conspired to take her from me. Black and Potter worked with Black's younger brother, Regulus, and some of the older students, to take my witch away from me. The Slytherins' idea, of course. They approached the Marauders with it in our fifth year – incidentally that was how Pettigrew was recruited to the Death Eaters. They conspired to take her from me in a way that none of them could be blamed for. A way that would hurt me more than just killing her. They De-Aged her. Knowing she was alive – that she was out there in the world re-learning to walk and talk and dress herself while I took my exams was the ultimate form of torture that would drive me to the Dark side.

"The Slytherins tricked Slughorn into brewing the potion as a demonstration in a seventh year class and stole a good deal of it. The Marauders instigated the prank, undoubtedly too thick to realise what would become of the girl. They thought it would simply be able to be reversed. That she would be a tot for a few weeks and then an Aging potion would fix the problem. Harmless fun, they thought. They were wrong. Black tricked her into drinking spiked pumpkin juice at dinner in the Great Hall that evening when my girlfriend was sitting with Lily at the Gryffindor table. Potter and Pettigrew were the ones to douse her with a bucket of water spiked with more.

"Within minutes, she shrank in her robes until she was two years old and could barely walk. Her memory vanished in time for me to hex all of the twisted fucks an inch from death before scooping her up and rushing her to the Hospital Wing. In one day I went from sneaking off to abandoned classrooms and getting my hands under her shirt, to staring at her while she couldn't remember my name. Hell, she couldn't even pronounce it when I supplied it."

Hermione's heart constricted inside her chest at the very idea. She reached for him carefully, putting her hand on top of his where they rested on her knees.

"I tried everything. Aging potion. Memory charms. We all did. Nothing worked. She recalled enough of her life that she knew me, to a subconscious extent. She liked to crawl into my lap and play with my hair and stare into my face with just the faintest recognition that she'd loved me, that she still did, but didn't know why because she didn't know my name. Eventually her parents were contacted and they were forced to take her from the school to raise her all over again.

"Naturally I went after the Marauders. I almost killed Potter and Pettigrew. They spent five months of our fifth year in the hospital wing. I invented that _Sectumsempra_ spell to punish the two of them; I turned to my housemates for my revenge. It's a little known fact that for all our lack of scruples, Slytherins are extremely loyal to their friends. I believed them to be at the time, anyway. They were willing to start a feud with the Gryffindors for taking my witch from me, never once letting on that it was them who had sparked the idea. I dove into the Dark Arts with relish, looking for ever more creative ways to punish those bastards, creating dark spells of my own when I couldn't find creative enough means to make them pay.

"The day Lily Evans turned her back on me, I'd planned on killing the Marauders. OWLs were done, they were all recovered and planning to flit off for the summer. As much as I knew it wasn't her fault, I blamed Lily for my witch's interaction with the Marauders that had taken her from me and I didn't want her defence of me that day. I wanted to duel them to the death and she interfered. When I called her a mudblood, it was at the pinnacle of my rage and I regretted it when I realised that she'd been pushed too far, too. In any case, any further words we exchanged were hostile and I was left friendless but for those Slytherins who'd had a part to play in my witch's De-Aging. I joined the Death Eater ranks soon after."

Hermione found herself frowning at him sadly.

"But… If you didn't love Lily – I mean, if you were dating someone else – why did you fight the war in the name of her memory?" she asked softly. "And what does all that have to do with Harry and Draco? Or me, for that matter?"

"Lily's fury with me reminded me that were my witch still around to understand what I was becoming, she would be disgusted with me for turning to the men and women I fell in with. Lily, instead, turned to the very people I still blamed for what happened to my witch and she married Potter. I spent the remainder of her life trying to protect her from the monster I believed James Potter to be. Amid my pain I did shift a good deal of my love for my witch onto Lily because of the things they had in common and because she could still be saved, or so I thought.

"It relates to Potter and Draco because much like for my witch, there will be no cure. De-Aging potion is outlawed simply because it is so permanent. Her memory was gone but for a subconscious longing; heart-memory confused for familiarity – a sense of déjà vu and little more. Their memories will be gone in the morning, but for what we teach them."

Hermione held her breath when he smoothed his palms idly up her thighs, the callouses upon them teasing her sensitive skin and making her almost forget the conversation.

"But… won't that mean that you're going to lose more of your memory by morning?" Hermione asked him, frowning as the thought occurred to her.

"I didn't drink enough of the potion to lose more than three or four years. Harry and Draco drank enough to wipe most of their memories, I imagine. They will have to begin again, as Potter suggested he might want. They will relive their childhood and will have to attend Hogwarts all over again, when the time comes."

"That might be a problem," Hermione frowned.

"Because they are lovers but are about to be raised as adoptive brothers?" Snape guessed, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, yes. Though that's not what I was thinking of. They are vastly different in personality. Worse, they're both rich and famous men, especially Harry. He will have to live his life all over again, being hounded by people who will want to know how he defeated Voldemort and why he doesn't remember. What if someone tries to challenge him to a duel for the sake of saying they out-duelled the boy who defeated the darkest wizard of all time? He's just a little boy and likely doesn't even know how to use his wand anymore. Godric, we need to take their wands from them or they could be complete menaces!"

Hermione's mind began to whir with the terrible possibilities of what might happen to the two wizards.

"They won't be menaces, Hermione," Snape said quietly. "You recall I mentioned that they will have heart-memories that will remain? They will need to be reminded of what they know when it comes to magic, but they need not re-learn it all over again. Just as my De-Aged witch did, they will take to magic with ease and outstrip their age-mates in a matters of hours. In essence, they will be _insufferable know-it-alls_."

Hermione almost didn't register the words if not for the emphasis he put on the title he used most often to torment her when he'd been her teacher. Jerking her eyes up to meet his unfathomable pair, Hermione tried to figure out what he was saying.

"You're awfully slow on the uptake tonight, Miss Granger," he drawled when Hermione shot him a questioning look.

"What are you…saying?" she asked. "You… Snape, what became of the witch you lost?"

His smirk was as sneering and as taunting as ever, and Hermione felt a strange flutter inside her stomach as she tried to focus on what he was telling her.

"She aged, once more. Her parents and her teachers decided it would be best to allow the idea that she would be the oldest in her year to better hide her habit of knowing everything. When she turned eleven, she attended Hogwarts once more. I, rather than being her boyfriend as I'd been during her first time at Hogwarts, found myself suffering the misfortune of being her teacher. What's worse, I found myself having to be cruel to her in order to prevent the other teachers and Dumbledore from thinking I might still harbour feelings for my little witch."

Hermione held her breath, waiting for him to continue, getting lost in the depths of his eyes.

"Brightest witch of the age, they called her." He shook his head, an almost fond expression crossing his eyes when her eyes widened at her own familiar title. "She was sorted into a different house during her second trip through Hogwarts. Instead of being my bookish, logical Ravenclaw, she landed herself in Gryffindor. Which, I might add, did little to help her make friends until she proved her willingness to lie through her teeth saving two boys who'd upset her."

Hermione felt a chill rush down her spine.

"Who?" she breathed before she could restrain her tongue.

"Who did she fall into friendship with?" He smirked. "The son of a man responsible for her need to relive her youth at all, and a gangly redheaded boy prone to chewing with his mouth open. They'd a knack for getting my witch into trouble and she'd a penchant for driving me batty in class with her incessant need to show off her brilliance and her knowledge, always flinging her arm into the air every time I asked even the most obviously rhetorical questions."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. It simply couldn't be true, but from the way he shot her a small smile – one she'd seen only a few times in her life up until that moment, she suspected she knew whom he was referring to.

"What became of her?" she asked, rather than guessing.

His lips twisted into a strange expression then and his brow furrowed.

"She got herself into mischief and she fought desperately for the Light during the war. She constantly irritated me with nagging questions on how to improve her homework when I gave her the barest passing grades to ensure I could not be accused of favouritism. Eventually she dropped out of school before completely her NEWTs when she should have, to go gallivanting about the countryside with her two best friends as they tried to put an end to the war. I believe she also robbed a bank."

Hermione pressed her lips together as more tears escaped her eyes, her gaze lowering to his hands upon her thighs, wandering higher and higher toward the short hem of her housecoat.

"In fact, she found me when the war was over and she proved that just as she'd done when we'd been children, she was willing to sneer at anyone else who dared approach me with the intention of stealing my attention from her. She also managed to get me drunk enough that I forgot my responsibilities as a man physically nineteen years her senior and I found myself doing something I hadn't done in seventeen years."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, smiling at her lap.

"Mmmm, I snogged her," Snape said, his voice lowering to that husky tone that had always so stirred the butterflies inside her tummy.

"Just snogged?" Hermione asked innocently, lifting her gaze to smile at him. He was smirking wickedly in return.

"Maybe a little more than snogged. You can imagine my simultaneous horror and delight to learn that nineteen years later than it should've occurred, she gave me her virginity."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Hermione felt a sob catch in her throat and without thinking she reached for him, leaning forward until she could capture his lips with her own. She kissed him hotly, overcome with emotion at the tale he'd weaved and caught by the fierce and desperate hope that it could be true. He kissed her back hungrily, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opened to him and Hermione moaned softly when his hands slid all the way up her thighs, under the hem of her housecoat and gripped her hips tightly.

She uncrossed her legs in time to have him lift her right into his lap without breaking their fierce snog. She straddled him as he leaned back in his chair, pulling her with him. Hermione tangled her fingers in his inky hair, butterflies rioting in her stomach to be kissing him once more. His hands guided her hips, rolling them and Hermione found herself rocking against the hot, hard bulge she could feel tenting to front of his trousers.

He swallowed the soft moan that escaped her at the friction and Hermione revelled in the feel of his tongue against hers; his lips so soft and warm; his hands tight but delicious upon her skin. Godric, she'd waited what felt like forever to touch him again. When he broke away from her lips to trail a burning line of kisses down her neck, Hermione let her head drop back, starbursts of colour exploding behind her closed eyelids.

She cried out when he pried her loose-fitting housecoat open, revealing her peddled nipples to the cool air. Hermione hissed between her teeth when he pinched both between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them in time to the roll of her hips against his erection while he trailed open-mouthed kisses down her chest between her breasts. The sensation sent bolts of electricity right to her clit and Hermione almost sobbed with need as he tormented her body.

His warm lips engulfing her right nipple almost brought her undone and Hermione did sob, lowering her face to his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head when he worked her sensitive nipple against the ribbed roof of his mouth. Morgana's crows, she was going to leave a wet spot on his trousers. He held her steady as he strummed her body like a talented minstrel and Hermione huffed out another soft cry when the attention threw her abruptly off the edge and into orgasm.

His dark chuckle was positively wicked when he licked her left nipple as he released it from his mouth.

"Gods, I need you," Hermione whispered against his hair, her hand fumbling for his trousers, trying to get them undone.

He didn't reply but to hold her steady when she lifted up enough to undo his fly, one hand tight upon her ribs. The other speared through the tingling ache at her sopping centre and Hermione almost squealed when he pressed his thumb to her clit, working it in gentle circles, making her hurry faster to free him.

"I'm gonna…" she warned tightly, her eyes clenched closed against the sensation that threatened to throw her over the edge again. Her nipples and her clit had always been extra sensitive, but the feel of this man that she loved so very much was going to drive her mad.

"Please do," Severus smirked when Hermione met his gaze.

She fumbled as she pulled his trousers open, surprised to find him commando underneath. Delving her hand inside, Hermione smirked at the soft grunt he emitted when she wrapped her hands hotly around his cock. The last time she'd done this, her mind had been fuzzy with the alcohol and the high of finally touching him. This time, Hermione went slow, learning the feel of the silken steel under her fingers, learning the length and girth of him; committing it all to memory so that she might never forget.

It never crossed her mind that this might be a bad idea. When he slipped two fingers into her tight pussy, she forgot to consider how, or even if, she would survive should he berate her and leave again when this was over. She didn't think about how he'd broken her heart last time, or about how awkward things might be if she shagged him again now when they had two small boys to raise, neither of them their own.

He beckoned with his fingers deep inside her, finding her sweet spot with apparent ease even as Hermione pumped her fist up and down, gripping his tightly. She hadn't done this very often but she'd read enough to know what she should be doing. Her head dropped back once more when he laved her nipples, kissing his way across her chest and plying them both with kisses, licks and little nips that drove her mad.

Hermione cried out breathily when the sensations pushed her over the edge again, his fingers and his mouth bringing her undone with ease. Her back arched when he slipped his fingers from her tight sheath, bringing the slick digits to his mouth and suckling them clean with a groan. His breathing was hitched from her administrations and Hermione protested when he tried to pull her hand from his cock, before realising his intent.

Guiding her over him carefully, Severus Snape gripped his cock and slowly impaled the curly haired witch upon it. He sank deep inside of her slowly, feeling like there was nowhere else he ever wanted to be but right there inside his witch as he should've been for the past twenty-five years. She hummed when she was fully impaled upon him, a little smile of delight painted across her mouth before she lowered it to his.

Severus kissed her eagerly, pleased when she didn't recoil at the taste of herself upon his tongue. She lifted herself slowly when his hands upon her hips urged her back up the length of his cock and she moaned with pleasure when she sank down once more. Merlin, she was magnificent, hers curl drying in a wild tangle after her shower and her emotional upheaval, her skin flushed from their exertions.

Severus watched her work into a rolling, rocking rhythm upon him, guiding her until she did it on her own. When he could take his hands from her hips he peeled her free of her housecoat, leaving her naked to his gaze. She met his eyes when he bucked beneath her, those chocolate pools hooded and dark with desire as she rode him, slow and easy.

Hermione tangled her fingers into his dark locks once more, leaning down to capture his lips and Severus bucked beneath her again. She snogged him hotly, riding him faster as he bucked harder and she suspected he must be getting close. She wanted to bring him undone. Rocking faster, she nibbled his lip while her fingers went to town on the many buttons of his robes.

It was hardly fair that she was naked while he was all but fully dressed. She drew a hiss from him when she clenched tightly around him, starbursts exploding behind her eyes once more when she managed to work all the buttons free until his robes hung open, revealing his scarred chest to her gaze. A faint smattering of black hairs dusted his chest and Hermione smiled against his lips when she smoothed her hands over the expanse of flesh hungrily. His breath hitched when she brushed his nipples and Hermine clenched even tighter.

" _Fuck!_ " he breathed, pulling away from her lips to kiss her neck again.

Hermione squealed in surprise when he shifted beneath her, his hands scooping under her arse and holding her to him while he lifted and flipped them both. She found herself on the floor of her living room with Severus Snape cradled between her thighs, his cock buried deep inside her. Hermione arched under him as he set a driving pace, his hips snapping hard enough their flesh slapped together. Hermione's moans grew more frequent, her breath coming in short gasps as he ravished her. She dug her heels into his arse, driving him deeper still and he cursed against her neck, giving her a love bite.

"Severus… I'm… I'm gonna… Sev…" Hermione whined, panic setting in as the new angle and faster pace rushed her toward bliss once more.

"You like that, Hermione?" he purred into her ear as he fucked her. Hermione shivered at the feel of his hot breath against her skin, that seductive voice filling her head.

"Yes," she moaned.

"You want it?" he asked, his voice coming a little harsh as he fucked her harder.

"Yes. God, yes," she cried, clinging to him, clenching as she wound tighter.

"Come for me, witch," he commanded in a low purr. Hermione's eyes screwed closed at the words and the feel of him deep inside her drove her over the edge.

A soft, breathy cry erupted from deep within her when everything snapped free, her tightly wound body letting go with a shuddering, spasming jerk. Snape groaned softly at the feel of her body milking his and Hermione moaned when he bit down lightly upon her neck as he thrust erratically a few time before burying himself to the hilt as warmth splashed deep inside her.

She was panting and tired when he collapsed on top of her, his weight wanted and familiar and utterly delicious to her buzzing form. Neither of them spoke as they caught their breath, both spent. When he lifted himself slowly a short time later, Hermione found she'd worked her hands under his robes to trace patterns upon the bare skin of his back.

"Are you alright?" he asked huskily, peering into her face when Hermione blinked sleepy eyes open to look at him. A soft smile curled across her face.

"I'm perfect," she hummed blissfully.

He snorted at her words and her obvious contentment.

"I'll be the judge of that, witch," he replied. "Am I too heavy?"

"No," Hermione whispered. "You're not going to… yell at me and storm out, are you?"

He blinked at her for a moment.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"No… I… might cry if you do that again, Severus."

He nodded, lifting himself off her completely and rolling to the side until he laid on his back beside her. He reached for her, pulling her to him snugly. Hermione burrowed into his side, cushioning her head upon his shoulder. He didn't say anything as they laid there.

"You… why _did_ you leave last time?" she asked as the fog began to ebb and she could think clearly again. "If you knew I was the same witch you'd… why would you berate me for giving my virginity to you and then leave?"

He tipped his head to look at her carefully.

"I didn't expect you'd still be a virgin," he said. "I… knowing that even after nineteen years pining for the witch I'd lost, thinking she was in love with someone else, thinking she'd have shagged someone before the wretched bastard who'd been her worst teacher, it was a shock to find you'd waited for me."

"I was de-aged?" she asked.

He nodded. "You were sixteen one minute, sneaking off with me in abandoned classrooms and snogging me stupid; the next you were a toddler again and you didn't know who I was. Do you remember what you said to me when I called you a fool and told you that you'd regret shagging me?"

Hermione frowned, trying to recall her words.

"I said that 'they say you don't forget your first love'," she whispered.

His lips twisted into an expression of pain.

"Except that you did," he said sadly, his eyes lifting to stare at the ceiling. "I reacted so poorly because you _did_ forget. A few months before you were De-Aged you told me you loved me. And then you were De-Aged and you forgot that you'd ever even met me, let alone that you loved me."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears at the pain in his voice, realising he was revealing more of himself to her than he'd probably ever done with anyone.

"When you said that, I realised what I'd done and I couldn't bear it. I was sure you'd sober up and hate yourself for shagging your teacher. That you'd hate me and say I'd taken advantage of you because you couldn't possibly have feelings for the wretched bastard you'd forgotten the first time."

Hermione turned in his hold, snuggling into him closer and wrapping her arms around him.

"I didn't forget," she whispered. "Not entirely. I mean, yes, in the most basic sense I had no idea who you were after what happened, but I never forgot you, Severus. The very first time I laid eyes on you in the Great Hall while I waited to be sorted, I couldn't look away. Every lesson, every time you gave me and my friends detention, even when you were horrid to me… I was intrigued. I went out of my way to try and please you with my essays because I didn't know any other way. When that didn't work, I found that I could get your attention of by defying you. I'd help Neville even when you told me not to. I'd sit at the front of the class and craft potions to the best of my ability on the off chance that you'd give me one of those sneering glares when you couldn't find anything to berate me for and didn't dare praise me.

"I used to stare at you _all_ the time. I always made sure to sit at the Gryffndor table in a way that meant I'd be able to watch you without being caught. I… honestly by about fifth year I had some pretty inappropriate fantasies featuring you."

"Oh?" he asked, tilting his head to meet her gaze once more.

"I'm enamoured with your voice," Hermione whispered, blushing as she bravely admitted it. "When I was younger I'd imagine you reading my favourite books to me out loud. The older I got, the more I imagined you saying…. _Other_ things. Do you recall the way, when you were angry with me for helping Neville in class, you'd creep up behind me at my cauldron and whisper threats in my ear of what you'd do if I didn't stop?"

He nodded, his lips quirking into a smirk at the memory.

"By fifth year I used to do it on purpose just to get you to do that," she said. "Only instead of threatening me with loss of house points, a failing grade or detention, I used to imagine you threatening to punish me in less appropriate ways."

"Such as?" he smirked, raising that eyebrow of his condescendingly.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you now, am I? Don't need to make a _complete_ fool of myself."

"You realise I can pluck the answers from inside your head, yes?" he asked archly.

"You wouldn't dare."

Hermione found herself suddenly on her back once more with Snape on top of her, peering into her eyes hungrily.

"Wouldn't I, Miss Granger?" he challenged wickedly.

In spite of herself, Hermione smiled.

"I… do you recall the time in fifth year when I was brewing Elixir of Euphoria and you threatened to force me to drink Neville's potion if I didn't stop helping him?" she asked.

Severus nodded.

"You said, 'yes, please'," he murmured, searching her eyes.

"I barely heard the real threat," Hermione said, her cheeks pink. "I… might've… erm… well, I imagined that you'd threatened to haul me into your office and spank me for my disobedience."

He looked shocked for one long moment before a wicked smirk crossed his face.

"My favourite goody-two-shoes wanted to play naughty schoolgirl?" he teased and Hermione blushed crimson.

"Don't tease me," she admonished. "I'm trying to make a point. You threw a tantrum after deflowering me because you thought I'd forgotten my first love. I'm attempting to illustrate that I most certainly didn't."

"You had a crush on me as your Professor?" he grinned.

Hermione nodded.

"It's honestly just as well that I left before seventh year, to be honest. I'd have been eighteen by then and I'm relatively certain that I'd have done something terrible to land myself in trouble with you enough that you'd be alone with me. I wouldn't have been above jumping you."

"You thought I was a Death Eater who'd murdered Dumbledore," he argued.

"I did," she agreed. "And I was angry about it, but I still wanted to shag you."

"Don't lie," he narrowed his eyes on her.

"I'm not lying," Hermione whispered, meeting his gaze. "Even believing those things about you, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I spent months on the run dreaming about luring you away from Voldemort. When I heard you'd been installed as Headmaster, those naughty schoolgirl fantasies took a rather dark turn toward being carnally punished bent over the headmaster's desk or being concealed under it doing inappropriate things to you while you conducted meetings with the staff and even other students."

"You fantasized about sucking my cock while I told off your band of troublesome friends terrorising my school while I was _trying_ to keep them safe?" he smirked.

Hermione blushed, but nodded her head.

"The point I'm making, before we devolve to utterly lewd notions," Hermione said, reaching for her dignity. "Is that you're a complete git for panicking when you _should_ have figured out that I was madly in love with you by the time I gave you my virginity."

"I distinctly recall you informing me that becoming a war-hero had not changed my appearance to make me desirable enough to lure the slobbering masses aboard my cock unless they wanted my money or my fame," Snape argued with her and Hermione began to laugh.

"And I meant it," she shrugged. "You know as well as I do that they only wanted to be able to say they'd fucked the man who hoodwinked the Dark Lord. I _may_ have been possessive enough to say whatever would convince you to ignore the other horny swots so you'd shag me instead. The point I was making was that they'd needed you to win a war and be famous and rich before they wanted you. I, on the other hand, wanted you even when I thought you were a traitor and a murderer."

Hermione huffed in surprised when he leaned down and snogged her hard for several long minutes.

"If you try and argue that you also found me handsome before then, your spanking fantasy might become a reality, Miss Granger."

"You can't keep calling me that if you're snogging me, Snape," Hermione protested. "Especially not now that you look the same age as me. But for the record, I did used to find you striking. I don't know that I'd have said handsome when you spent _all_ of your time sneering hatefully. But I did like looking at you. I still do."

She reached to brush his long black hair back behind his ear before tracing the shape of his sharp jaw.

"I've always liked your eyes," she went on when he stayed quiet, eyeing her doubtfully. "They're mesmerizing. I could stare into them all day if you'd let me. The colour lures me in like a deep pool I want to explore. I used to love watching you, just to watch expressions take shape on your face, trying to guess at your feelings about things when you'd use that blank expression to hide your emotions. I love watching when you arch that confounded eyebrow so condescendingly. And your lips…"

She paused to trace the shape of them carefully.

"I used to spend hours and hours imagining the things you might say to me with these lips. I spent even longer imagining the way they'd feel against mine."

"You are a very peculiar witch, Hermione Granger," he told her.

Hermione smiled softly, reaching for her courage as she met his gaze once more, butterflies in her stomach and her heart in her throat.

"Can I be _your_ peculiar witch, Severus?"


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Hermione held her breath, waiting for him to answer her. His expression gave nothing away, as usual, and the idea that even now, he would be secretive with his expressions and his emotions bothered her simply because she ached for a clue. Especially given that she was laying upon the floor, naked, with him looming over her, awaiting the crushing blow to her heart should he say no.

He stayed silent for so long, his eyes boring into hers and making her tingle with jitters, that Hermione's cheeks began to heat. Surely he sought a way to let her down easy after the mind-blowing sex and the admission that he'd loved her in another life, for her, and couldn't again.

"Do you understand what being my witch would mean?" he asked her in a low voice.

"Is this the part where you lay bare your soul and find out if I can handle it?" Hermione replied, her cheeks still pink and her breath coming in soft gasps after holding it for so long.

He frowned at her.

"I have no intention of baring my soul. I believe I've done that quite enough."

Hermione searched his face for some clue.

"Then what, exactly, are you referring to, Severus?" she asked. "You're worried I'm going to balk at the fact that you're a surly, sneering git more often than not? Don't make that face, you know it's true. Or are you going to suggest that being your witch means I have to be a hermit with you? Because I must say, I won't be hiding from the world like you do, though I do not object to being confined to your company."

"I was referring to the fact that you will be subject to disapproval from the likes of the Weasleys and your other friends," he said. "I might've been dubbed a war-hero, but I am not well-liked, Hermione. I _am_ cold, cruel, surly, sneering and prone to being a right bastard most of the time."

"You do realise that the only people's opinions who matter regarding any relationship between the two of us are you, me and the two little wizards asleep down the hall, don't you? And I know for a fact that Harry and Draco were both on board with my fancying you when they found out, even if Harry did wrinkle his nose, call you old, and ask how long I'd done so. My parents disowned me when I restored their memories – which now seems like all the more horrid a thing to have done to them, knowing they re-raised me when I lost mine – and so they can hardly pass judgement on you. The Weasleys like you and while Molly and Ron do still have issues over the fact that I didn't marry Ron, I'm sure they will get over it.

"And if they don't?" Severus asked, that arrogant eyebrow lifting in challenge once more.

"If they don't I'll have you, Harry and Draco and that will be fine," Hermione shrugged. "Molly already knows that I have a _Tenebris Sanctus_ so she knows that I can't be with Ron. She'll likely just be happy that I can have children of my own one day, if we want to. They're hardly going to disown me when I'll be the one raising Harry."

He continued to eye her.

"And my personality?" he asked. "I'm not easy to live with. I am possessive of the things I call mine; acerbic; rude; a shut-in; prone to losing my temper in a dramatic fashion; and outright mean most of the time."

"You're also wickedly smart, and while you do have a tendency to be mean, I often find amusement in it when you use it to entertain me by saying cruel things out of earshot whilst people-watching. You make me laugh, you know. Particularly at times when I shouldn't be laughing. You're clever and yes, you can be a bloody snob, but that amuses me too. I like the idea of leaving the rest of the world outside when I'm in with you."

"And when I take my temper out on you?" he challenged.

"You'll find I've a rather nasty temper of my own. I imagine that should things get heated enough, the occasional duel would be in order, but I find myself rather interested in the type of make-up sex that would follow," Hermione smirked. A wicked grin crossed his face.

"You realise that my possessiveness will likely rear its head even with them?" he nodded his head toward the doorway to the hall and Harry's room.

"You mean that if they monopolise my attention, you'll pout?" Hermione teased.

"Don't poke fun, I'm being serious. I have a problem. Anything between us will involve raising the two of them, which I imagine will cause a number of disagreements between you and I, not to mention that since neither of them are mine biologically, and that you had a propensity for snogging the pair of them before this mess, I may be prone to irrationality when it comes to your proximity to the two of them."

Hermione knew it was wrong, but she was fairly certain her heart melted.

"Severus, I plan to stand-in as a mother to the pair of them. I will love them as my friends – I already do. I will love them as though they were my children, too, because they will be. As long as you don't go accusing me of molesting them, I think I can handle you pouting when they demand more cuddles of me than you'd prefer."

He made a face and Hermione laughed.

"Our age difference is another issue that will be raised," he pointed out.

"You've just finished telling me we've been the same age since we were born, I just had to re-live my childhood while you finished growing up. Actually, since I'm assuming that my birthday is still the nineteenth of September, just in 1959 instead of 1979, I do believe that makes _me_ older than _you_. Though if I only De-Aged fourteen or fifteen years, why is there a nineteen year difference between us?"

"The idea boggles the mind when you are so very immature," he needled. "However, there extra five year difference is a result of your idiotic parents and the Healers from St. Mungo's making 'leaps' in the research about the aging process. Your parents consented to letting the Healers test variations of Aging Potion on you, attempting to return you to being sixteen instead of two, mentally as well as physically. They wasted five years shooting you in both directions until the Healers began to fear you'd be addled as a result and finally let you grow up without interference. Your parents disowned you after the Memory Removal you performed on them, yes?"

Hermione nodded sadly.

"Good," he muttered darkly. "They never liked me and I thought they were absolute imbeciles. The idea of ever having to associate with them again was not a pleasant one. Wretched fools."

"I'm not above spanking _you_ , Professor."

"Don't call me that," he said sternly. "I _loathed_ being your teacher. Not because it wasn't delightful to watch you learn all over again, but because it was painful knowing you'd made such discoveries with me the first time around but were rediscovering them with others. Having you sitting innocently in my classroom when all I wanted to do was engage you in conversation you wouldn't understand nearly drove me mad."

"You could have talked to me and been nice to me," Hermione frowned at him.

"No, I couldn't." He shook his head. "Albus and Minerva kept an annoyingly close eye on me, particularly as you approached your final years at school. The number of times Minerva snuck up on me in your sixth year, making certain I wasn't _grooming_ you to be with me once you were of age, ought to be criminal."

"She accused you of grooming me?" she asked.

"She scanned my detention rotas every day to make sure I was never alone with you," Snape nodded.

"Would you have? If they hadn't kept an eye on you, would you have tried to reconnect with me?" she asked.

Severus stayed quiet, searching her eyes once more.

"Probably. If I could've gotten you away from Potter, yes. If I'd been able to get away with it, yes, I probably would have. You were so different in some ways, but so woefully the same in others that I had to convince myself to hate you just to keep from snogging you silly when you got mouthy with me in your classes or when you argued your grades with me in my office."

Hermione stared back at him, shocked that he'd admitted.

"You think me a monster," he accused. "A lecherous old man skirt-chasing a child."

"Except I'm not a child. I used to be your teenage girlfriend… wait, if I was your girlfriend and we were sneaking off into abandoned classrooms and broom cupboards, didn't we…?"

"Shag?" he shook his head. "Came close a few times. My sixteenth birthday was the closest. In fact we were going to fuck then, but we were both caught by Filch, or would have been had we not both hexed him and his wretched cat stupid, and run for it."

"Is that why he hated me so much?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

"One of the many reasons he had to hate you. Not that it was common knowledge that you were the girl who'd been De-Aged. Minerva and Albus knew, of course, and many of the others who'd been my teachers suspected, but those who started working at Hogwarts after you disappeared had no idea."

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes dancing over his face hungrily.

"Can I… not right now, obviously, but would you mind sharing the memories you have of me at that age?" she asked softly.

His brow furrowed for a minute.

"You don't believe that I'm telling the truth?" he asked.

"Of course I believe you," Hermione rolled her eyes at his concerns. "I just want to have the memories back that I lost. I want to recall what you were like as a teenager."

"They won't be the same as if you remembered them for yourself," he said.

"I know," Hermione smiled sadly. "But I'd like to see them just the same, if you'll permit me to do so?"

He looked torn for a moment before he nodded hesitantly.

"Not tonight," he said.

Hermione agreed with him.

"No, I think there's been rather enough emotional upheaval for one night," she murmured, reaching up to card her fingers through his inky black hair. "You still haven't answered my question, Severus."

He arched one eyebrow at her.

"Do you still want me?" Hermione whispered. "Can I be yours or are you not interested in being mine?"

He tipped his head to one side as he regarded her.

"Are you only asking because of the thing hanging around your neck?" he asked in return, regarding her carefully as though he were trying to figure out a complex arithmancy equation.

Hermione might've smacked him had she been unaware of how impossibly thin-skinned he could be about certain things, in particular the notion that anyone might like him for him and not for some ulterior motive.

"Do you doubt that I have feelings for you, Severus?" Hermione asked.

"You've hardly sought me out, witch."

" _Sixteen_ unanswered letters," she reminded him. "And I'll have you know that I've avidly followed every article you've had published in secret."

"That lends itself to professional interest, not romantic."

"I'm lying on my living room floor, naked, after having shagged you," she pointed out.

"For all I know, you're a nymphomaniac who shags everyone this way," he retorted. Hermione swatted him.

"I've only ever shagged you, you bloody git! Stop being such a sod before I spank you. Get off me, I want to show you something."

He narrowed his eyes on her but complied, lifting himself off of her and getting to his feet. Hermione reached for her discarded housecoat, tugging it on but aware of the hungry gaze he had trained upon her while she did so.

"Come on," she whispered, taking his hand and leading him down the hall. She waved her wand to get the lights as she went, leading him into her bedroom.

"What am I looking at, Miss Granger? Other than your apparent proclivity for mess and your obsession with books?" he asked, eyeing her room with some distaste.

"Oh, hush. It's a bombshell in here because I spent hours panicking about attending the ball tonight and wanting to look my best after Draco let it slip that you were going to be there," she shushed him. "I'm trying to show you something else."

Hermione led him over to her desk where she carefully picked up a scrap-book that had been perched upon a small pile of newspapers and journal articles. Snape took it when she handed it to him and Hermione bit her lip, watching him eye her for a moment before he lowered his gaze and opened the book.

Inside was a collection of clippings from the papers, begun from just after the end of the war when he'd been cleared of his crimes as a Death Eater. There were pictures of the Order with him in them, looking dour. There was a picture snapped of the two of them the night of the Memorial, when she fended off witches and spent hours laughing and joking with him, drinking outside the limelight. There were more from the time after he disappeared, stories published in the papers dubbing him one of Britain's most eligible bachelors. More still were clippings and copies of his works that had been published in the paper. Articles on potion discoveries, critic pieces tearing apart other people's theories; even the occasional puff piece published in the Prophet about where he was now and what he'd been doing for the past three years.

"You… collected them all?" he asked when he'd leafed through it carefully.

"I love re-reading them," Hermione admitted. "Do you believe my feelings for you are genuine and that they've nothing to do with this stupid artefact hanging around my neck, or do you require more proof?"

"Do you _have_ more proof?" he countered. Typical Slytherin.

"I can share every memory and thought pertaining to you, if you wish. I've no call for keeping you out of my head, you're welcome to view them," she offered. "Or I could further humiliate myself and expose myself for a twitterpated fool and show you another scrapbook I have with every essay I ever wrote for you and all of your cruel scribblings tearing them apart and discrediting my findings as irrelevant, incorrect or regurgitated from textbooks too closely."

"You kept those too?" he scoffed. "I ripped those to shreds academically."

"I am aware," Hermione sniffed, glaring a little. "My point is that I've a rather awkward obsession with you that could prove problematic if you wish to co-raise Harry and Draco with me whilst refusing to court me."

"You do excel at awkward," he sneered. Hermione swatted him even as she smiled. He eyed her in return, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You want to be my witch even though I'm a wretched bastard who didn't even write back to you when you fell pregnant with my child?"

Hermione winced at the mention of the painful past.

"I want to be your witch even if you'll drive me batty and make me tear my hair out every time you outsmart me or correct me or sneer at me," she said. "I want to be your witch even though the papers will positively crucify the pair of us. Even though you'll be a right foul git most of the time and I'll be cursing to Harry and Draco about what an arrogant, condescending, rude, surly bastard you are, I want to be with you, Severus."

He tipped his head to one side, an expression of curiosity and wonder crossing his face.

"Where do you find the courage to just blurt out your every wish like that?" he asked her. "You are usually logical and clever, but you seem to have taken leave of your common-sense if you truly _want_ to be with me."

"Must you be self-deprecating?" she asked. "I don't know what you want from me here, but I should inform you that I won't beg. I will freely admit that I'm enamoured with you and have been for years. I'll admit I've fantatsized about you in the most inappropriate ways and that I often while away hours wishing you would speak to me or show any interest in me in return. I will even own up to the fact that I'm terrified you're going rip my heart out and walk out the door without looking back after shagging me, like you did last time. But I won't beg. If you want to be with me I'll probably swoon at the notion, but if you don't, I will retract my statements and attempt to pretend that I can work with you in a co-guardian manner without secretly sobbing my heart out when you're not around."

"You're sure you want to be with me?" he asked, smirking openly now. "I should warn you that I've a habit of hogging the covers in bed."

Hermione smiled in return.

"So do I," she admitted. "But I'd be willing to share if it means I get to sleep beside you."

"Even if I snore?" he asked.

" _Do_ you snore?"

He shrugged. "No idea. I'm a shut-in. I don't tolerate anyone whilst awake, let alone when I'm sleeping."

"The how do you know you hog the covers?" she asked.

"I don't know that either," he admitted. "I just wanted to know what you'd do if I were to say so."

Hermione began to giggle, even though she knew the sound drove him mad.

"You're a git. You know that, don't you?" she laughed.

He looked down his nose at her but didn't deign to answer while she laughed all the more.

"Well… do you want to find out if you're a snoring bed-hog?" she asked, nodding at her bed across the room and arching one eyebrow just the way he so often did.

"You're inviting me into bed with you?"

"Don't say it in that scandalised tone as though you didn't just shag me silly in the living room," Hermione admonished. "And be aware that if you don't want to be my boyfriend, I'm going to make you sleep on the couch."

"You're blackmailing me? The scrupulous little Gryffindor is blackmailing me to court her? Really?" he sneered. Always with the sneering.

Hermione peeled off her housecoat as she smirked and sashayed past him to get into bed.

"I personally think I'd have made a good Slytherin," she told him. "You're hardly the first person to fall victim to my blackmail or my wayward moral compass."

"I hardly think you can claim such a thing, Hermione," Severus scoffed.

"I kept Rita Skeeter in a jar after capturing her in her beetle Animagus form for almost sixth months in fourth year and the summer before fifth," she said. "And I blackmailed her to never write anything bad about me again unless she wanted to rot in Azkaban for illegal and unregistered animagi."

He raised that eyebrow again, affecting surprise. Hermione climbed under the covers, naked, and smirked at the way he was watching her from across the room.

"I was also the one who stole potion ingredients from your stores to brew Polyjuice Potion in second year. And I led Umbridge into the forest and didn't lift a finger to protect her when she was carried off by the Centaurs. I don't know what warped perception you have of me as being some rule-following little swot above black-mailing or harming anyone, but you should alter it," Hermione went on, reaching across the bed and flipping the covers open to invite him in with her.

He eyed her for several long moments before slowly beginning to unbutton his robes. When he pulled his shirt off over his head, Hermione trailed her eyes over his bare torso, feeling heat pool between her legs. When he looked up and boldly met her gaze before popping the buttons on his trousers – aware of her attention – Hermione smirked.

She squawked in protest when he flicked his wand to douse the lights in the room before pulling his pants off and crawling into bed beside her.

"You're a tease," Hermione accused.

"I prefer to think of myself as strategic."

Hermione snorted. "And just what is so strategic about stripping in front of me but not letting me see every inch of you?"

She nearly leapt out of bed when she felt him smooth a long-fingered hand over her stomach, trailing south toward the soft curls at the top of her sex.

"It saves time on getting you ready for me again," he replied in that low, silken purr that had always been able to bring her undone. Hermione quivered.

"Virulent for a man in his forties, aren't you?" She teased softly, her own voice turning husky as desire slammed into her so hard it left her breathless and a little dizzy.

"I'd forgotten how much energy I had in my twenties," he replied, sliding closer until he could kiss her neck. "I find myself with all this extra libido and in bed with a witch who is apparently rather obsessed with me."

"I _knew_ you'd make fun of me for admitting my feelings," Hermione huffed before a low whine tore from her throat at the feel of his long fingers spearing deep inside of her.

"I prefer to think of it as me rewarding you for doing so," he murmured in her ear, nibbling her earlobe and making her see stars.

"If this is my reward, I'll shout my feelings for you from the rooftops every hour, Severus Snape," Hermione whispered, reaching to tangle a hand into his silky hair and pulling his lips to hers.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

She lay on her back, panting in the aftermath of their vigorous love-making and staring at Severus across the pillows. He panted, too. His breath coming in little huffs and his skin slick with sweat when she slid her hand over his stomach, revelling in the touch.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered softly, almost as though he didn't want her to hear it.

Hermione smiled to herself, feeling sleepy and content in a way she hadn't in a very long time. The toll of such an emotional night coupled with two rounds of sex left her exhausted and Hermione carefully burrowed closer to the man lying beside her.

"Severus?" Hermione whispered when she was right next to him, curled onto her side with her hand splayed over his stomach lightly.

"Mmm?" he hummed in question, one of his hands reaching over to card through her curls while the other burrowed beneath her neck upon the bed. Hermione pillowed her head on his shoulder, smiling softly to herself at the way he allowed the touch.

"I really missed you," Hermione admitted. "It sounds contrary to say so, since we hardly had a friendly relationship up until you removed yourself from the public eye, but I missed you."

"Why?" he asked, sounding as though the idea were baffling. There was a defensive edge to his tone too, as though he expected her to say something terrible to him at any moment.

"Why did I miss you?" she clarified. "Because you fascinate me. When I was at school, I used to watch you all the time. I loved watching the way you'd stalk about the place, sneaking up on unsuspecting students and terrifying them. I loved listening to you hissing out instructions in the classroom, even when you'd berate me and my friends. I adored watching you brew."

"You witnessed me brewing at Hogwarts?" he asked in surprise.

"Many times. I never told anyone, but I used to steal Harry's Invisibility Cloak sometimes and sneak into your lab to watch you," she reached for his hand, pulling it free of her hair so that she could toy with his fingers. "I love the shape of your hands. They fascinate me entirely too much for my own good, I'm sure. Watching each finger busily and carefully preparing potion ingredients, stirring, cutting, dicing. It's mesmerizing to watch you brew a potion."

"Is that so?" he asked, and Hermione wondered if she imagined the vaguest hint of smugness in his tone.

"Mhmm," Hermione hummed, snuggling even closer until she could pillow her head in the hollow of his shoulder and press a soft kiss to the side of his neck, right by the scar Nagini had left upon him. She noted idly that he was bony enough to not be all that comfortable, but she didn't mind. "I especially loved it when you brewed potions you had to sing over. Listening to you use that bewitching voice of yours to sing incantations over potions is a form of the purest pleasure."

"You really _are_ obsessed with me, aren't you?" he said. Hermione turned her head and nipped his shoulder lightly.

"Don't tease," she whispered. "It's not something to laugh about. I used to agonize over my inappropriate feelings for you far more frequently than was proper."

Hermione sighed when he curled his arm around her, cuddling her into his side a little more firmly.

"Why did you never tell me?" he asked many long minutes later when Hermione was almost asleep.

Hermione began to laugh at the very idea.

"Have you met you, Severus?" she chuckled. "I'd have sooner tried to fly without a broom than even considered risking the disdain and humiliation you'd have heaped on me had I walked up to you in fourth year and blurted out that I was besotted with you. It's hard enough telling you now. I'm half-convinced I'm going to wake up in the morning to cold sheets and not so much as a note to say you think I'm a ridiculous little swot and can't stand the idea of ever seeing me again."

Severus stayed quiet and Hermione would've believed him to be asleep if not for the way his hand stroked gently up and down her back.

"You think me that heartless?" he asked in a low, almost pained tone.

Hermione sighed.

"I think you _still_ haven't even told me whether or not you want to be with me, Snape."

"I got into bed, didn't I? Even after your poor attempt at blackmail."

Hermione blinked. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She jerked up into a sitting position and groped for her wand under her pillow to light the room, needing to see his face. He caught her hands before she could find it.

"Are you…?" Hermione bit her lip, squinting at him through the very faint light glowing from her _Tenebris Sanctus_. "Are you saying you _do_ want to be with me? That you'll be my boyfriend?"

He pulled her down to rest her cheek upon his chest once more, tucking her back under the blankets and wrapping his arms around her.

"You do realise, don't you, that when you were De-Aged back to being a toddler, you didn't actually have the presence of mind to know you were my girlfriend?" he said, that voice a silken delight to her ears. "And that I could hardly break off a relationship with a tiny witch who looked at me with such adoring curiosity but had no idea who I was. I never broke up with you, Hermione. Not officially."

"Are you saying that I've technically been your girlfriend all this time?" she asked in a small voice, horror and elation filling her in equal measure at the idea.

"If you want to be technical about it," he sniffed. "I had every intention of setting you to rights by whatever means necessary when it happened. I'd intended to fix you, to age you once more so that it would be like it had never happened. And after we were all resigned to the fact that there was _no_ fixing you, I didn't have the strength to explain to a toddler that she couldn't be my girlfriend. Not without sounding absurd. Or sobbing like a pathetic fool. I tried, half-heartedly, to suggest that until you grew up all over again, I'd just have to wait to explain to you why we couldn't be together anymore."

"Tried?" Hermione asked, shocked by the raw pain in his voice.

"I didn't even get all the words out," he whispered in a tight voice. "You were this tiny little witch with wild curls hanging to your feet - the hair not having receded into your head when you shrank in size - and you were crawling all over my lap, standing on my stomach and fiddling with my hair whilst babbling baby-talk and gibberish at me. I tried to tell you that until you were grown, I couldn't be your boyfriend. And as you'd a habit of doing when you didn't like my ideas, you talked right over the top of me."

Hermione's heart broke even as she felt the strangest urge to laugh at the idea.

"What did I say? Do you remember?"

"Squalty-nook, Sev," he whispered, his arm tightening until she was pressed to him hard enough to hurt just a bit. She felt the way the next breath he drew was ragged and pained, as though he fought the urge to sob.

"Squalty-nook?" she laughed in spite of the obviously painful memory it was for him.

"Don't ask me to interpret your gibberish, witch," he said. "The point is I never officially broke up with you, so I can't officially agree to be with you when, technically I have been for the past twenty-six years."

Hermione's mind reeled at the very idea.

"I… I'm not sure how I feel about that," she admitted in a small voice.

"Because you don't want to acknowledge the idea of being unfaithful to such a courtship when you'd no idea it existed?" he sneered quietly.

"Well… yes," Hermione said, the number of people she'd snogged coming to mind. "I mean, I've only ever shagged you, but I've certainly had my share of snogs and one rather inconvenient exploration that went a little further than that."

"It's going to anger me if you tell me, isn't it?" he asked.

"I… probably," Hermione nodded.

Severus sighed heavily. "I can hardly complain. My life after your incident took a decidedly fucked up turn and I, unfortunately, have shagged far more witches than just you, Hermione."

"Anyone I know?" she asked, jealousy flaring even though she knew it was illogical.

"No one you'd know personally. Certainly no one you'll ever interact with," he admitted. "Can you say the same?"

"No," Hermione whispered. "I… I may have a shared a drunken hook-up with George Weasley last year that reached third-base."

Severus stiffened in annoyance and made a soft sound of anger.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You weren't to know," he sneered. "You probably shouldn't have shared that. I hardly need more reasons to hate that kid."

"You'd have hounded me with suspicious guesses for ages if I didn't tell you," she argued.

Severus didn't reply, but she could practically feel his annoyance over the correctness of the accusation.

"No one else from here on out if you mean to be my witch in every sense, Granger," he said quietly.

"Deal."

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Hermione woke to the feel of small, inquisitive hands gently patting her face. Blinking her eyes open blearily, she tried to focus on where she was and why it felt difficult to draw breath. A small, messy-haired boy was perched on her chest, his hands tracing the shape of her facial features. His eyes were a vivid shade of green behind a pair of spectacles much too large for his small face. They kept slipping down his nose, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Harry?" Hermione asked softly, staring at the small boy as the previous night's events flooded back to her.

"You know my name?" Harry asked in a small, timid voice, looking worried that he'd woken her up.

"Of course I do, love," Hermione whispered. "Do you know my name?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer before glancing to his left. Hermione followed his gaze to spy Draco, similarly small, warily standing at the end of the bed and peeking around the bedpost as though fearful of waking the wizard sleeping beside Hermione.

"Mine?" Harry guessed.

Hermione's eyes softened.

"I'm yours, love. My name is Hermione Granger."

Harry's eyes lit up as though he recalled the name now that it had been given to him.

"You're my best friend," Harry told her.

"I am. Are you alright, Harry?"

Harry frowned. He looked down at himself, one hand still lightly smoothing across her cheek before it slipped into her nest of curls.

"I feel too little," Harry said. "Like I wasn't always this little and my soul is too big for my body."

"Do you remember what happened last night?" Hermione asked. "Draco, come over here, sweetheart."

It occurred to her belatedly that she was naked under the sheet, but it was hardly anything either boy hadn't seen before and with Harry sitting on the sheet, there was little chance it would move and expose her assets.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded and Hermione's heart broke a little bit at the suspicious and slightly fearful tone in his voice.

"I'm Hermione, love. I'm your friend."

"Why are you in bed with Severus?" Draco asked her, peeking out from behind the bedpost.

"Because I'm courting him," Hermione said patiently.

Next to her, Hermione heard a faint snort of amusement and she looked over to find Severus feigning sleep and listening to her handle two curious four year olds.

"I know you're awake," Hermione told him, reaching for him and carding a hand through his hair. She was entirely too pleased to be waking up in bed next to him.

"I'm hungry," Draco announced, climbing up on the end of the bed and walking across Severus without a care for stepping on his godfather. The little brat.

"I told him I could cook something for us," Harry murmured to her, still tracing her face like he was trying to etch it into his memory.

"It's alright, Harry," Hermione smiled at him. "I'll make something for you. What would you like for breakfast?"

"I want pancakes," Draco announced. He'd climbed the length of Severus's body to sit on the man's back thanks to the way Severus was lying on his front. Hermione's heart melted at the sight when Draco began plaiting his godfather's hair with a sly grin on his face.

"If you plait my hair, Draco Malfoy," Severus threatened in a soft voice. "I will personally see to it that you don't have any of that famed Malfoy blond hair upon your head until you're a teenager."

Draco immediately let go of the plait he'd been making, unwinding the coils he'd been weaving.

"I wasn't plaiting it," he lied. "I was just trying to finger-comb it for you. It's a mess."

Severus smirked, cracking one eye open far enough to look at Hermione, who was eyeing the pair of them with unveiled adoration.

"Work on your ability to lie, Draco," Severus chided.

Draco paled at the words and Harry giggled.

"'Mione?" Harry asked her softly.

"Yes, love?" Hermione asked, dragging her eyes back to look at her best friend. He looked hesitant.

"I want pancakes too, please. If it's not too much trouble? I promise I'll eat them all and I won't complain of a tummy ache after," he looked so hopeful, yet fearful as he made the request that Hermione's heart broke. She caught the way Severus's eyes both opened and a frown marred his brow as he looked at the small boy.

"Of course you can have pancakes, Harry," Hermione told him. "Would you like them with some bacon and maple syrup, too? Maybe some ice-cream and strawberries?"

Harry's eyes went wide and Hermione knew then that though he'd never shared the details with her all that much, he was shocked that he'd be offered so much food at once. As a child he'd only been allowed enough scraps to survive and little more, even when he was the one cooking the food.

"I can have _all_ of that?" Harry whispered, sounding as though he feared it was a trap.

"Of course you can, love," Hermione told him, reaching to card a hand through his hair adoringly. "Come on, slide off me there and we'll get them started, alright. Could you please bring me my house-coat, love? It's over there on the floor."

Harry bounced off her and dashed to get it. Hermione made to sit up but before she could, Severus reached for her. When she met his gaze, it was full of concern and worry, his eyes darting to Harry silently before looking back to her with a vague hint of confusion, as though he were trying to understand.

"I'll explain in the kitchen," Hermione whispered before leaning over to steal a kiss from him. Draco was still perched on Severus's back, but he too was looking between Harry and Hermione with a vague hint of worry in his eyes. "Draco, love, would you like to help Harry and I make some pancakes in the kitchen?"

Draco looked surprised.

" _You're_ going to make them?" he asked. "That's elf work."

Hermione smiled tightly. "We don't have an elf, love."

Draco looked puzzled.

"I have plenty at the Manor," he disagreed.

Hermione looked at Severus.

"Draco, do you remember what happened last night?" Severus asked him, rolling beneath the boy until he laid on his back while Draco sat on his stomach.

"To Mother?" Draco asked, his eyes filling and his lower lip beginning to tremble.

"Yes, to your mother. She's dead, Draco," Severus told him quietly.

"Where's Father?" Draco whispered, tears leaking down his face.

Hermione accepted her house-coat from Harry when he brought it to her before watching her best friend climb up on the bed next to Draco. He approached Draco easily, reaching to card a hand through his hair though he looked a little wary of Severus. Hermione suspected he remembered him, though only from the previous evening, not for Snape being his teacher.

"Lucius is in Azkaban, Draco," Severus told him. "After last night's accident, Hermione and I will be taking care of you until Lucius is released and you are grown once more."

"Father's in _prison_?" Draco asked, horrified.

"Yes, Draco. He harboured the Dark Lord in the Manor and despite defecting at the end, his crimes during the war were extensive. He will be in prison for another ten years," Severus said baldly.

Hermione winced.

"But…who will see to the Manor?" Draco asked. "Who's going to teach me to be a proper wizard? Who's going to heal my knees when I fall off my toy broom again?"

More tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks.

"I will," Severus told him. "That's what godfather's are for, Draco. With your parents unable to care for you and the rest of your family dead, I will be the one to care for you."

"But you hate everyone," Draco sniffled, subconsciously leaning into the hand Harry dragged through his blond hair.

Hermione chuckled softly at his words.

"I don't hate you," Severus replied to the boy.

Draco emitted a soft, pained sound before he threw himself down on Severus's chest, cuddling him as he cried. Hermione's heart melted all over again when Snape looked startled and then resigned as he cuddled the small boy.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said, standing and pulling her housecoat on before reaching for the small boy. "Something to eat will help. And maybe some tea. Tea fixes everything, you know?"

She scooped Harry up and propped him on her hip, leaving Severus and Draco to have their moment.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, wrapping her messy curls around his fingers as she carried him out to the kitchen.

"Mmm?"

"My parents are still dead, aren't they?" Harry asked.

"Yes, love. They are. So are Sirius and Remus. Do you remember them?"

"My godfather and uncle Moony?" Harry confirmed.

"You do remember some things, then?"

"Vaguely," Harry nodded. "It's all jumbled. When Severus said 'godfather', I remembered Sirius. I feel like part of me is remembering things from being grown, and the rest of my mind remembers my life at four. I don't have to go back to the Dursleys, do I?"

Hermione kissed the top of his head.

"No, Harry. I'll never let you go back there. I'll be looking after you and re-raising you until you're grown again. You _and_ Draco. Severus is going to help, too."

"You love him, don't you?" Harry asked.

Hermione smiled.

"Yes, I do," Hermione admitted.

"I love Draco," Harry told her. "It aches in here to see him sad." He pressed a hand to his small chest.

"I know, love."

"Are we going to keep living here?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure, love. Maybe."

"Draco has a Manor," Harry pointed out. "And no one to tend it now with his mother gone and his father in prison."

"The elves will care for it, Harry. There was too much darkness there for us to live there."

"Oh." Harry said, frowning thoughtfully as Hermione sat him on the counter and flicked her wand to begin making pancakes and tea.

"Hermione, what about Teddy?"

Hermione stopped and looked at him, her heart clenching.

"I'm his godfather," Harry reminded her. "He needs me. Andie will be very broken up about Narcissa and she's not well."

Hermione nodded.

"I should check on him," Hermione whispered. "He's my godson too, after all."

Harry nodded.

"I'll wait here," he said. "Andie was at the ball last night. She might've been hurt. We forgot to check."

"Can you mind the breakfast until I get back?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

Hermione dashed back into the bedroom to find Severus sitting propped up against the pillows with a tiny Draco cuddled into his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he saw her expression and the way she rushed to change into regular clothes.

"I need to check on Teddy and Andromeda," Hermione told him. "Andie went to the ball last night. She might've been hurt. Teddy is mine and Harry's godson. Will you be alright with the two of them until I get back? Harry's keeping an eye on breakfast."

He nodded, frowning slightly.

Hermione hurried back out of the room and into the living room to Floo. She shouted for Andie's place and disappeared in a roar of green flames.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

She found him sitting on the floor in the living room, staring into the flames and simply waiting.

"Teddy?" Hermione asked the small boy.

"Mione?" he asked, looking up at her through tired eyes.

"Is everything alright, love? Where's your grandmother?"

"She didn't come home," Teddy said softly. He got to his feet and dashed over to fling himself at her lower half. "The sitter left. She said she had to get home and told me to wait for Gran. But Gran never came."

"Are you alright, darling?" Hermione asked hoisting him up into her arms.

"I'm hungry," he whispered. "Where's Harry?"

"He's at home. There was an accident at the Ministry last night. Harry and Draco and lots of other people were tricked into drinking De-Aging potion. Do you know what that is?"

"I could take a guess," the almost-five-year-old replied, toying with her hair. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Lots of people were hurt. Some people died. Lots were De-Aged by many years. Harry and Draco were both De-Aged. They're the same age as you today, Teddy."

"Really?" Teddy asked, looking excited by the idea. "I'll have people to play with who are my age?"

"You will. Draco, as you know, is your cousin. Harry is still you godfather, but he's your age now. If anything's happened to Andie, you'll be coming to live with us," Hermione explained.

"Cool," Teddy said, the innocence of childhood showing through.

"I'm going to take you back to my place and then I'll check on what's happened to Andie, alright?" Hermione asked.

"Ok," Teddy agreed. "Is there food at your house?"

"I've got pancakes cooking," Hermione nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Teddy's sandy blond and turquoise hair.

"I love pancakes."

Hermione smiled as she climbed back into the fireplace with the small boy in her arms.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

Andie was dead. Narcissa was dead. Many more were dead. Neville was a teenager, George was barely out of his teens, Ron was being obnoxious and Ginny was a child.

Hermione put her face into her hands a week after the De-Aging incident. The wizarding world was in chaos. She'd spent the entire week as primary care-giver for Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter and Edward 'Teddy' Lupin.

"Miss Granger, my understanding is that in the event of his relative's death, you are Edward's godmother, is that correct?" the Ministry woman asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Harry's his godfather, but obviously he's not up to the task of being his guardian when he's currently the same age as the boy."

"Mr Potter, being listed as a legal adult despite the incident, does not require Ministry permission to live with whomever he chooses, but Edward does. If you'll sign here, you will gain full custody of Edward Lupin as his guardian," the witch told her.

Hermione scrawled her name.

"What about Harry and Draco?" she asked.

"Their listed birth records show their adult age," she witch shrugged. "Their care will fall to whomever they like. In this instance, Severus Snape is Draco's godfather, and Harry's parents, his godfather and his grandparents are deceased."

"There's no forms I have to sign to re-raise him?" Hermione clarified.

"Not at the present time. The Ministry is in chaos handling those who've no family or no one to raise them again, so those people are being dealt with first. Until then, you and Snape may raise them as you see fit."

Hermione nodded.

"Alright, thank you," she whispered tiredly.

The woman smiled.

"It won't be easy on you, raising three small wizards when you're so young yourself, Miss Granger. But if anyone can do it, it's you."

Hermine smiled at the woman's faith. The mess of sorting out funeral arrangements, and the estates of Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks had been weighing on her. The Manor had been entrusted to Draco, and therefore, to Severus given Draco's age. The elves would oversee its care and Severus planned to see to the wards. Andie's place had been packed up of all Teddy's things and the valuables. Everything not necessary to Teddy at almost-five, had been put in his Gringott's vault and Molly had handled packing up Andie's personal things.

Hermione sighed as she left the office to Floo home. She almost laughed when she found Harry, Draco and Teddy tearing through the flat, shouting and wielding fake wands – Hermione had confiscated Harry's and Draco's when they'd accidentally set Crookshanks on fire. Severus was seated in the living room, a book open on his lap as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Severus?" Hermione asked, flicking her wand to store the important documents of Teddy's with the other things.

He opened his eyes to look at her slowly.

"I can't do it," he warned her.

"Can't do what?" she frowned.

"Raise the sons of two of the men who ruined my life," Severus said. "If not for Potter and Lupin, I'd have never lost you. If I'd never lost you, I might not have become a Death Eater. I can't raise them. They're wild."

His statement was punctuated by Teddy Lupin racing through the living room with Harry and Draco on his tail, laughing wickedly. Given that Harry and Draco were both covered in glitter as they chased him, Hermione suspected Teddy was to blame for that fact.

"I think it's nice," Hermione said, crossing the room until she stood before him. "In another life, they should've grown up together rather than twenty years apart. The chance to right that mistake of fate makes me happy."

Severus scowled.

"Your happiness is going to send me grey before I hit fifty."

"Don't be ridiculous. I saw you at forty-two and you didn't have a single grey hair, despite almost twenty years of teaching," Hermione told him, watching him move the book from his lap before he pulled her down until she straddled him upon the couch.

"That was when I'd spent time terrifying teenagers, not tolerating unruly four year olds," he replied. "I can't raise the sons of two Marauders, Hermione."

"You can, and you will. Unless you've decided you don't want to be with me after all?"

He scowled at the very idea.

"They took you from me for almost twenty years and now you want me to raise their sons?" he demanded.

Hermione smiled gently, tangling her fingers into his long hair.

"Think of it this way," Hermione told him. "If they hadn't De-Aged me, you'd never have become a Death Eater. You'd never have overheard the prophecy about Harry and you'd never have passed it on to Voldemort. Harry would never have become his target, and James and Lily might never have died so young. Instead, I'd have been of an age with you, probably still friends with James, Sirius, Remus and Lily. I might've figured out that Pettigrew was the spy and tried to save them. We'd have still been friends with them all, so you'd have been raising _our_ children right alongside theirs anyway."

"I'd never have let my children grow up with those of Potter, Lupin or Black."

You would have," Hermione assured him. "I'd have made you."

"Who said I'd have stayed with you if you asked that of me?" he arched that infernal condescending eyebrow at her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"You imagine I'd ever have let you get away?" she challenged. "Do you delude yourself into thinking I'd have let you go?"

His eyes sparkled, even if his expression remained stoic.

"You'd have wanted to raise my children?" he asked.

Hermione pressed her lips together to hide her smile. Merlin, she loved this condescending, snarky, sarcastic man.

"I still want to," she murmured in reply.

Severus's lips twitched.

"Is that right?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "But you'll only get to have them with me if you're sticking around. Which will mean raising Teddy and Harry alongside Draco."

His eyes narrowed.

"Is this another of your attempts at blackmail, witch?" he demanded.

Hermine grinned and shook her head.

"Fact, this time. They're mine, Sev. They're mine and you're mine, which makes them ours."

"Do you know what Potter, Lupin and Black would do to me if they knew _I_ was raising their sons?"

Hermione leaned in to steal a soft kiss from his lips as she smiled gently.

"They'd be thanking you, Severus. If they were to appear right now, able to communicate with us, James and Lily would thank you for all you've done to protect Harry. Remus and Tonks would be pleased to know that someone is looking after Teddy, caring for the boys and ensuring their safety as they grow from tiny little wizards into respectable young men."

"You think I'm capable of teaching them to be respectable?" he scoffed. "They're too busy pranking each other to even listen to me, let alone to like me."

"They like you and you know it," Hermione argued. "And you know for a fact that they couldn't ignore you if they tried. You're too scary when you get sharp with them."

His lips twitched into a smirk at her words and Hermione leaned in, stealing another kiss.

"You really think that things would've turned out this way? That we'd raise kids of our own alongside them," Severus nodded his head toward Teddy, Harry and Draco when they dashed back into the room. This time Teddy was chasing Harry, covered in what looked like mustard. Hermione winced.

"Boys?" she said sharply.

All three skidded to a stop at her sharp tone, already having learned to mind her when she used that tone.

"Mione?" Harry asked.

"If I find mustard or glitter on _anything_ in this house, all three of you will be scrubbing the floors, by hand, for a week," she warned them.

Draco paled and Teddy's hair changed to a faint shade of pale orange with his worry.

"Do we count as anything in the house?" Harry wanted to know.

"Yes," Hermione said, hiding her smirk. "So I suggest you all get bathed as quickly as possible or someone is getting punished."

All three boys ran for it, dashing for the bathroom to bathe. Severus eyed them all on their way out of the room before he turned to look at her with the faintest hint of a fond expression upon his face.

"You intrigue me when you're hard on them," he said.

"Because I sound like you when I do it?" Hermione teased.

Severus smirked. "That, too. I just find that I rather like the way you handle them. You'll make a very good mother, you know?"

Hermione blushed.

"I've been thinking we need to move," Severus went on. "That bedroom isn't big enough for the three of them and they're too wild for a flat in the heart of London."

"Where would we go?" Hermione frowned.

"My place."

"I've been to your place, Severus. It's tiny. It's smaller than this place. We won't all fit."

He smirked.

"I didn't mean my hermit hovel," he replied.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, seeing the mischief glittering in his eyes.

"You may recall that my mother's maiden name was Prince?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'm the last of the line for that family. My mother was disowned for marrying a muggle and her brother was killed in service to the Dark Lord before he produced an heir. When my grandparents died, everything passed to me," he explained softly. "I've an estate. It's not as grand as Malfoy Manor, but Mellowton Hall certainly has the space for three growing wizards."

"You own Mellowton Hall?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "And you _don't_ currently live there permanently?"

"It might surprise you how lonely such a large house feels when one is a bitter, reclusive hermit," Snape replied evenly. "There would be more than enough space for the three of them to grow up outside of prying muggle eyes when re-learning to fly and causing explosions of accidental magic. The hall also boasts an extensive library, in addition to a brewing lab."

Hermione felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth over the casual way he stated those facts. Despite his collected, almost bored tone as he listed the attributes of the house, Hermione could tell he was on edge, waiting for her reaction.

"Severus Snape, are you asking me to move in with you?" Hermione asked him smugly, grinning.

"You will, undoubtedly, annoy me. But my understanding is that whilst raising the children of my enemies, you insist upon being present."

He sniffed as though he weren't on tenterhooks, awaiting her reaction.

"If someone had told me two weeks ago that Severus Tobias Snape would be interested in moving in with me and raising three children with me, I'm sure I'd have keeled over in shock," Hermione teased softly.

"And if you'd been told that I also want to shag you until you walk bowlegged?" he inquired.

Hermione snorted.

"Certain, sudden death by desire, I'm sure," Hermione grinned.

He leaned up to kiss her, capturing her lips softly and kissing her slowly. Hermione melted against him, her fingers in his hair holding him firm as she swept her tongue against his. Her heart was racing inside her chest and her mind went blank of everything but the feel of his lips and his tongue against her own. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, pressing her core to the growing hardness inside his trousers and Hermione smiled against his mouth.

She'd barely slept for shagging him and if she was being honest, they already lived together. He hadn't spent a night outside of her bed since he'd been De-Aged and Hermione wouldn't have it any other way. Yet, no matter how frequently she shagged him, every time she looked at him she wanted to do it all over again.

"I'll move into your fancy house on one condition," Hermione murmured huskily when he pulled away from her lips to kiss his way down the length of her neck and across the dip of her cleavage.

"More extortion?" he asked, bemused.

Hermione laughed. "I want to see the memories of us together before I was De-Aged."

Severus pulled back from her slowly. "You still don't believe me about them?"

"Of course I believe you. I just want to see how we got together; what you were like back then; what I should anticipate our children looking like, one day."

He froze, his eyes darting up to meet hers. "You'd better hope they don't look like me," he murmured.

Hermione smiled gently.

"As opposed to my buck teeth and wild curls?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Pray they don't get your hair _and_ my nose."

Hermione laughed, knowing that even if they did, she'd love them with all her heart.

"Do we have a deal, or not?"

"You really want to see them that badly?" he asked. "So badly that if I say no, you won't move in with me?"

Hermione hid her grin.

"Are you trying to wheedle your way out of letting me see them, Severus?" she asked.

Severus looked away and Hermione realised he didn't want to show her.

"Why don't you want me to see them?" she asked. He glanced back at her, his brow furrowing for a moment.

"I wasn't a nice person, Hermione. I was shabby looking, ugly, mean and the target of the Marauders more often than not," he said tightly.

Hermione smoothed the pad of her thumb along his lower lip adoringly.

"I'm not asking for a full length show of the entire time you were a teenager, Sev. I just want to see the two of us together as snot-nosed kids."

He hesitated for a moment before closing his eyes as he nodded. "Fine. But after we move. It will keep that lot busy while I show you."

Hermione smiled brightly. "Want to move today?" she asked. Severus, in spite of his reluctant agreement to her terms, grinned wickedly at her enthusiasm.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

Two days later, everything was moved in. The boys had been fed and put to bed for the night after a long, play-filled day of riding brooms, unpacking toys and books and other knickknacks. Harry and Draco's things from adulthood had been stored and they'd each chosen their own bedroom down the hall from one another.

Mellowton Hall was, as the name suggested a long, rectangular building. The kitchen, laundry, master bathroom, drawing room, Severus's lab and a large banquet hall were located on the ground floor. The top floor boasted ten bedrooms – all of them with their own bathrooms – in addition to a large library and a sitting room. Hermione loved it. Kept up by elves since the death of Severus's grandparents, it was in good condition and already felt entirely like home.

She'd smiled widely to herself when she'd moved into the master bedroom with Severus and had danced with glee to unpack all of her things alongside his. Much of the house was already furnished, so it was only personal items that had been needed.

"Are you sure you want to see them?" Severus murmured to her, having set up the Pensieve inside their bedroom so that she'd be able to view the memories.

Hermine nodded.

"Where do you want me to start?" he asked. "The day we met?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. Severus rolled his eyes at her before extracting the memory and dropping it into the Pensieve.

"After you," he drawled, nodding to her. Hermione lowered her face to the watery surface and plunged into the memory.

_She stood alone inside the Great Hall at Hogwarts, a little ways to the left of her peers as she looked around with wonder. Tiny, bushy-haired and buck-toothed, Hermione Granger was not terribly attractive at eleven years old. She also looked rather like she had smelled something bad, because she had her nose in the air despite her wonder._

"You look like Draco when you stand like that, you know?" Severus drawled from behind her, appearing in the memory. Hermione reached for his hand to hold.

"Where are you?" she asked him.

Severus pointed to a shabby looking boy beside a red-head. His hair was black and lank, his face excited but guarded.

_"_ _Lily Evans!" Professor McGonagall called. Lily hurried forward to be sorted, quickly being placed in Gryffindor. Something that upset Severus, it was clear. More students were sorted and the group awaiting their sorting grew smaller. The bushy haired girl drifted toward the lank haired boy until she stood beside him._

_Snape glanced at her carefully when she nudged him. The girl offered him a liquorice wand and he accepted it with a small grin. She was chewing one of her own and looking bored by now, obviously finding the sorting dull for all the excitement of the ceremony._

"Did I always look that bored?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"No," Severus laughed. "You were hungry, I think. And lonely. I don't know who you sat with on the train, but you didn't talk to anyone but me until you were sorted – at least as far as I know."

_"_ _I bet he'll be in Hufflepuff," Severus muttered to her as they watched a small, clumsy seeming boy hurry forward to be sorted._

_"_ _Two knuts it's Gryffindor," the bushy haired girl replied._

_Severus shook on it, chewing his own liquorice wand as the boy was sorted into Hufflepuff. He grinned triumphantly, turning to the girl beside him for his winnings. She pressed two knuts into his hand._

_"_ _I'm Hermione," she murmured as Sirius Black become a Gryffindor._

_"_ _Severus," he replied._

_"_ _Where do you want to go?" she asked him in a whisper, betting a further two knuts that a pudgy girl with mean eyes would be a Slytherin. Severus bet against her on Hufflepuff and was right a second time._

_"_ _Slytherin, for me," he murmured. "You?"_

_"_ _Ravenclaw," she replied. "My Mum says I'm too clever for my own good."_

_"_ _Mine says I'm not worth the food to feed me," Severus replied when she gave him two more knuts._

_"_ _Your mum sounds awful," Hermione told him. Severus shrugged._

_"_ _She is. Two knuts that one will be in Gryffindor."_

_"_ _I'm not betting against you on that one. He's got Gryffindor written all over him."_

_James Potter swaggered on his way up to the Sorting Hat and he shot a wink at Remus Lupin as he did, indeed, become a Gryffindor._

_"_ _You're good at this," Hermione complimented him. "What do you think for him?"_

_They both watched Remus be called up to be sorted._

_"_ _Gryffindor to follow the other two he walked in with, but he looks more like he belongs in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff."_

_"_ _He walks funny," Hermione commented. "Like a predator."_

_Remus stiffened, perhaps hearing them as he moved with silent, predatory grace to be sorted. He was placed in Gryffindor along with James, Sirius and Lily._

_"_ _Slytherin, for sure," Hermione bet upon Peter as he scuttled forward. He had mean eyes._

_"_ _He looks cold enough," Severus agreed. "But not sly enough. Look at him. Too cowardly for Gryffindor surely, but he doesn't have an ounce of loyalty or smarts, I'd reckon. How did he even get in here?"_

_Hermione snorted beside him._

"We've been passing observational judgement on others since we met," Hermione smiled.

Severus nodded, smirking. "I'm currently hoping you'll be in Slytherin with me."

The memory played out as Severus was called and sorted into Slytherin before Hermione herself became a Ravenclaw. Watching the memory of it made her feel funny.

"Disappointed?" she asked, smirking at the man holding her hand.

"Look at my face," Severus said, pointing at the memory version of himself. He looked crestfallen and a little angry that Lily was in Gryffindor and Hermione had been put in Ravenclaw. The memory faded away and changed instead to a classroom scene. Transfiguration, by the looks of it.

_Severus was scowling, sitting at a desk by himself. Lily was sitting with a girl from her house when he'd come in and hadn't saved him a seat. He looked annoyed, his arms folded and his expression sour. The face he pulled warned other students away until suddenly, a small, bushy-haired girl slid into the vacant chair beside him._

_"_ _Two knuts I can transfigure something before you," she said by way of greeting while Severus turned to look at her in surprise._

_"_ _You like giving away your money, don't you?" he sneered in reply and the girl grinned._

_"_ _I warned you that I'm clever," she said, flicking messy curls off one shoulder to grin at him. She also handed him a muffin she must've pinched from the Great Hall before pulling out a second one to nibble on._

"I'd no idea I was so interested in eating at inappropriate moments and gambling," she laughed.

"I think you saw it as a way to break the ice and make a friend. Bribery with the food and a challenge to make someone talk to you." Severus replied.

"Who wins?" she asked.

"You do," he shrugged. "You also sat with me in every class we shared for the entire day."

"I was never any good at making friends," she shrugged. "I latched onto those I did make, even if they were mean."

"I know," he replied, glancing down at her. "Look."

The scene had shifted again. They looked older, perhaps second or third years this time. Lily had invited her to sit with her and the other Gryffindor girls, who were sitting with the Marauders. Severus approached them and glared at Hermione while the Marauders began making snarky comments about his hair and his tatty robes.

_"_ _Why are you sitting with these morons?" Severus demanded snarkily._

_Hermine shrugged at him. "Just sit with me and help me take the mickey out of them, yeah?" she asked._

_Severus glared at her._

_"_ _You can do better than the likes of these arseholes," he swore, plonking down next to her and earning glares from all four Marauders. "You've got more smarts than Black and Potter have money in their bank vaults, combined."_

_"_ _So what? They make me laugh," Hermione shrugged. "Don't be a git, Sev. Have you done the Herbology essay yet?"_

_"_ _Of course I've fucking done it," Severus growled, pouting. "I'm not a moron who leaves my homework until the last minute."_

_"_ _Did you find the bit about Gillyweed tasting like frog blood?" she asked conversationally. "I kind of want to raid Slughorn's stores and try it out for myself. Want to come? We could swim in the lake."_

_The look he gave her could've curdled milk._

_"_ _Do you take pleasure in spoon feeding them extra credit answers they don't deserve?" he demanded. "You never used to offer them titbits of information on our assignments. What? You've got a crush on Lupin or something, do you?"_

Hermione winced when the younger version of her blushed crimson at his assumption, especially when Severus got up and stomped away, calling over his shoulder that he hoped she'd be eaten by the Giant Squid.

"In my defence, Remus is adorable," Hermione pointed out to Severus, grinning when he scowled at her. "He is! Look at him. He's all awkward, but graceful at the same time and he's literally emitting animal magnetism. What teenage girl can resist that?"

"Not you," he sneered. "You actually dated him briefly, you know?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"He asked you to Hogsmeade not long after this fight and since you usually went with me, but I wasn't talking to you because I was jealous, you agreed. You and Lupin dated for four months in third year. He was your first kiss."

"He never told me," Hermione frowned.

"No, after you were De-Aged, everyone involved was sworn to secrecy on the matter and everyone who didn't know what had really happened was told that you'd transferred to a different school after your parents moved," Severus explained. "You never felt a connection to him when you met him this time around?"

"Well, yes, but not really one of attraction. Or, well, briefly I did think I fancied him, but I'd learned my lesson about crushing on teachers with Lockhart, and I still compared him to you. He was nicer, but he wasn't as funny as you," Hermione explained. "I really dated him?"

"I was livid," Severus nodded. "I hexed the Marauders more times in those four months than I'd ever done in my life up until that point. Every time I saw any of them, I hexed them. In class. In the corridors. I pulled pranks and I strove to figure out Lupin's secret about being a werewolf."

"Did I know about it when I dated him? His lycanthropy?" Hermione asked.

"If you did, you never shared it with me. I didn't figure it out until sixth year when Black retaliated against me for a particularly nasty prank on him by telling me how to get into the Shrieking Shack on a full moon. Potter dragged me away just before Lupin could kill me or infect me."

Hermione winced.

"If you were so angry at me for dating Remus, how did we get past it?" Hermione wanted to know.

Severus nodded toward the next memory that was playing.

"You dated him until the summer between third and fourth year. You never told me why the two of you'd broken up, but knowing what I know about Lupin's lycanthropy, I'd say it had to do with the sudden onset of his raging libido every full moon. I suspect he might've gotten a bit forward with you and you turned him down for sex. For a long time, I believed you'd lost your virginity to him, actually. Until the night you gave it to me."

Hermione bit her lip and turned her attention to the memory as it played.

_Hermione sat out on the grounds, crying by herself. Nestled by the trunk of a tree near the lake, a book on her lap and her knees bunched up, she was muttering to herself about being stupid._

_"_ _What's wrong with you?" Severus asked nosily, appearing out of nowhere and nearly scaring the life out of her._

_"_ _What do you care?" she asked thickly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and trying to hide her tears._

_"_ _You're crying. By yourself. I might be a bloody prick, but I can't just watch you sob without finding out why. It makes laughing at you feel a little heartless."_

_In spite of the tears, the bushy-haired witch choked out a laugh at his words. So rude. So utterly Severus._

"You really _have_ always been a git," Hermione laughed, grinning at the current version of the man that boy had grown into. He smirked in return.

"You haven't seen anything, yet."

_"_ _If I tell you, you'll laugh at me so much you'll probably wet yourself," Hermione told him. "That, or you'll sneer and upset me all the more."_

_"_ _Lupin ditched you, didn't he?" Severus sneered at her. "I told you he would. He only wanted to date you because it would annoy me and because you're too smart for your own good."_

_Hermione winced at his tone._

_"_ _He asked Sally Jenkins to Hogsmeade," Hermione said miserably. "Everything was good before the summer and even on the train back here this year. But then he did something I didn't like and got funny about it when I said I wasn't comfortable with it."_

_"_ _What did he do?"_

Knowing Severus as she did now, the tone in his voice belied how much he cared for her. It went cold and flat with deadly warning of the pain someone would suffer for hurting the witch he cared about.

_"_ _It doesn't matter what he did. The point is that I wasn't comfortable and so he broke up with me. And now I'm sobbing over the fact that he asked someone else on a date and you've come to laugh at me. Go on then, tell me again what an idiot I am and make me feel like dirt and then be on your way so I can cry in peace."_

_The younger version of Severus looked like the idea annoyed and appealed to him in equal measure._

_"_ _You're a fool for dating him to begin with," he told her. "And he's an idiot for breaking up with you."_

_He stood awkwardly for a moment while she laughed mirthlessly. He seemed torn between leaving her to cry alone, and comforting her. The urge to comfort her won. He kept right on berating her for dating Remus too, even as he sat down next to her, moved her book from her grip and pulled the tiny witch into his lap, letting her cry into his shoulder._

"You comforted me?" Hermione smiled at him. "Even after being jealous and a git because I'd dated Remus, you let me cry on you."

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity to call you and Lupin every wretched name under the sun and to warn you about all the reasons you shouldn't have trusted him. Never forget that I'm a Slytherin, Granger. I cushioned doing so in the intent to insult you, but mostly I was taking the opportunity to ensure you'd never date a Marauder ever again."

Hermione giggled.

"How did we get together?" she asked.

"After this, we were closer as friends. You didn't want to talk to the Marauders for a little while after you and Lupin split and Lily was being an airhead with the other Gryffindor girls. With so few friends of your own in Ravenclaw, you spent more and more time with me. More than you had since first year. You used to seek me out in the library, the corridors, even the dungeons when I'd slip away to brew things or practice spells I shouldn't. We used to duel for practice in an abandoned potions classroom throughout most of fourth year."

He pulled out another memory and let it play out.

_Older now, the pair of teenagers were obviously in the awkward stage between child and adult. Hermione had developed breasts and Severus's voice broke every now and then when he talked. Severus was lanky, and he looked a little clumsy as the pair faced off. Hermione had stripped out of her jumper and even her shoes. She wore only a tank top and a pair of bell-bottom jeans. They were both breathing hard and sweating, flicking hexes at each other._

_When Hermione flung a tickling jinx at him, he blocked it and returned fire with a slicing hex. Hermione cried out when it made it past her shield, leaving a small slice across her stomach, tearing her top and her skin. Severus winced, hurrying toward her_.

_"_ _Shit, are you alright_?" _he asked, frowning._

_"_ _That hurt," she muttered, pulling at the fabric as she stumbled back and fell on her arse on the dusty floor. Severus joined her._

_"_ _Let me see so I can heal it," he muttered, prying her hands from the wound where she tried to stem the blood. Hermione let him. Without thinking, he pulled her shirt off her body too, gripping the hem and pulling it off over her head. He didn't notice her breath hitching until he'd healed the wound, singing the healing incantation to stop the blood and seal the slice in her skin. Sitting in just her bra and her jeans with his hands on her bared flesh, Hermione's eyes were wide._

"Forward, aren't you?" Hermione grinned, lifting his hand to her lips and kissing the back of it.

"I was intent on healing you," he argued. "Of the two of us, however, you are the one who is forward. Look."

_When he realised she was topless, Severus froze, his hand still touching her stomach and his eyes going wide._

_"_ _Sev?" she whispered._

_"_ _You… I pulled your shirt off you," he murmured, sounding worried._

_"_ _You did," Hermione nodded, grinning the slightest bit. "Now what are you going to do?"_

_"_ _I… what do you want me to do?" Severus asked, eyeing her warily as he licked suddenly dry lips. The look in her eyes hinted at what she wanted him to do. The way she caught his hand on her stomach and slid it slowly over her skin, drifting higher towards her bra, more than hinted. Severus gulped audibly._

_When she moved his hand until he cupped her breast, Hermione flicked her hair out of her eyes, leaning toward him slowly. The intent to kiss him was clear even as she closed the distance between them. He looked like a deer in the headlights, frozen and nervous, one hand cupping her breast as he leaned toward her, too._

_They met in the middle, lips pressing together for the first time._

" _That_ was my first kiss," Severus told her softly, watching the pair fumble slightly as they kissed, lips first, then a slow exploration of tongues. Hermione felt her grin grow the longer they snogged. When things got heated enough that she straddled his lap and began unbuttoning his shirt, Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder.

"This makes you happy, doesn't it?" he asked, sounding wickedly amused.

"It does," she admitted. "This is how we got together?"

Severus nodded. "Our duelling sessions often devolved to snogging sessions after that. I melted more cauldrons than should ever be allowed thanks to you and your distracting tongue. At first we kept it hidden. Verbal sparring and duelling turned into snogging in private. It became a habit until one day we were snarking at each other just before the summer between fourth and fifth year. Arguing about exams during a study session, I think. Lily and the others were all there, even the Marauders. I proved you wrong about something or said something rude that annoyed you and you couldn't think of a reply. You snogged me in frustration to shut me up."

Hermione giggled.

"Everyone was watching," he smirked. "Lily nearly had a cow. When you realised what you'd done, I was sure you were going to blush and run out of there or listen to them when the Marauders made gagging noises."

"What _did_ I do?" Hermione asked.

"Laughed. And snogged me a second time. And told me I was too smart for my own good sometimes and that it was lucky you loved me or you'd have killed me years ago," Severus admitted quietly, his eyes searching hers. "Your face, when you realised what you'd said, was priceless. Shock and surprise at the statement, mostly, followed by fear. You looked at me like you thought I was about to call you a fool for fancying me."

"Did you say it back?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

"No," he shook his head. "I was too busy trying to suppress the urge to jump for joy and to sneer in everyone's faces that you loved me. But I snogged you silly again until Lily and the others told us to get a room because we were grossing them out. Which, we did actually do, much to their mortification"

Hermione smiled gently, feeling slightly crushed to know he hadn't said it back. He watched her with a sparkle in his eyes as she processed the information.

"You should know by now that I have trouble admitting that I've got feelings at all, Hermione," he told her, obviously realising that the direction her thoughts had turned.

"Did you ever say it back, before I was De-Aged?" she asked.

He smirked and flicked his wand, pulling another memory from his head for viewing.

"I spent the whole summer with you," he said quietly as Hermione's bedroom in her parent's home materialised. It was a little less girly looking, but still filled with books.

_Lying on the bed, the curly haired witch was pinned under the lank haired wizard. Her hands were tangled in his hair and she was topless._

"Where were my parents?" Hermione asked, smirking.

"At work. It should be noted that they did _not_ like me."

_She snogged him enthusiastically, moaning softly when he broke from her lips to trail his tongue down her neck, pausing at the sweet spot beneath her ear. Reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, Hermione peeled him out of it until he was topless, too. He returned to her neck, kissing his way over her chest and Hermione arched under him, moaning softly when he drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling and making her mewl in pleasure._

_Her hands clawed at his shoulders and his back, arching under him, seeking friction._

_"_ _Sev?" she panted, her hands sliding to his belt and beginning to unbuckle it hesitantly. He didn't pause in his torture of her, moving to her other nipple and laving it with attention. His hands were unbuttoning her shorts, Hermione noticed, peeling her free of them and sliding them down her legs._

_When they were both naked, their hands explored each other's bodies._

"Why do I feel like I'm watching porn?" she asked, turned on as she looked up at Snape.

"Because we're hot?" he suggested. Hermione snorted. The memory kept playing, the teenagers using their hands to bring each other pleasure.

_Severus flopped to his back beside her, having found some tissues to clean the sticky mess from her stomach and hands. He was breathing hard and Hermione looked sleepily content when she leaned over and kissed him lazily._

_"_ _I love you," Severus whispered so softly that she was sure she wasn't meant to hear it, just in case she didn't say it back. Smiling against his shoulder when she cuddled into his side, she pressed a kiss to his skin._

_"_ _Finally, he says it back," she teased._

_Severus looked worried for a moment, obviously not expecting those words to come out of her mouth._

_"_ _You've never said it to me," he argued._

_"_ _I said it months ago, in front of everyone."_

_Severus blushed. "I didn't think you meant it. I thought it was one of those things people say."_

_Hermione lifted her head to peer at him._

_"_ _Then you're an idiot," she told him. "I love you, Sev. I'm in love with you. If I could keep you forever and never have to see anyone else ever again, I would do it gladly."_

_Severus's face showed guarded wonder._

_"_ _You love me?" he asked, looking like he could scarcely believe her._

_Hermione nodded._

_"_ _I love you, too," he said, pulling her mouth to his and snogging her hard. "More than anything."_

The memory faded away and Hermione stared up at Severus, her heart pounding in her chest. It ached with the love she felt for the man beside her.

"How old were we then?" she asked softly.

"I was fifteen," he replied. "You were a few weeks off sixteen."

"You loved me at fifteen?" she whispered, her eyes slowly filling with tears.

He nodded, pulling her to him slowly.

"I still do."


	19. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

* * *

The first slow, deep thrust was her favourite part of sex, Hermione decided as Severus buried himself to the hilt inside of her, both of them groaning at the exquisite feel of their bodies joining. It felt like coming home after a long day; like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place; like his body was made to be joined with hers.

Pleasure hummed through her veins and she tangled her hands in his hair. A smile pulled at her lips when her wedding ring glittered in the firelight, bright against the inky blackness of his hair. He withdrew slowly, his eyes finding hers as she clenched down, never wanting to let him go. He smirked wickedly before driving into her again, plunging deep and filling her.

Gods, she loved him.

"More?" he asked, arching that single, condescending eyebrow at her in challenge.

"Please," she nodded.

He moved faster, building to a snapping, rapid rhythm that drove deep and withdrew fast only to drive deep again. Gods, she could do this all night. The coiling of pleasure deep inside her tightened with every thrust, moans and expletives tearing from her lips before she pulled his mouth to hers.

The flick of his tongue, feather-light against her own, made her eyes cross behind closed lids. He tasted so sweet, like tea. His scent, so comforting, filled her nose, flooding her senses with herbs, peppermint and fresh tealeaves. Morgana's crows, she couldn't get enough of him. Arching into every stroke, his pelvis ground against her clit in the best way and Hermione saw stars.

Extra sensitive in her condition, the pleasure overwhelmed her and she tore from his lips as a scream tore from her throat, building within her and breaking free with a rush of endorphins and a spasming clenching of her body. He cursed against her neck when the sensations pulled him under, his teeth nipping lightly at her shoulder as he thrust erratically and emptied himself deep inside her.

Hermione smiled contentedly when he rested on top of her, squirming only slightly under his weight to better relieve the pressure on her womb.

"Vixen," he accused when she chuckled softly in her delirious contentment.

"I love you," she replied. She felt him smile against her neck.

"I adore you," he said softly, pressing a soft kiss to her neck before lifting himself off of her. Hermione watched him fuss with his wand to clean them both up before he tucked himself into bed beside her.

"Did you get the boys to sleep?" she asked after the three six-year old boys under their care.

"Draco called me 'Dad'," Severus murmured to her, meeting her gaze across the pillows.

"Harry called me 'Mum' yesterday," Hermione smiled.

"I think they're trying it on for size," he mused. "Trying to see how we'll react."

Hermione nodded.

"How _did_ you react?" she asked.

"I was a little shocked," Severus admitted. "He never called Lucius 'Dad'. His parents always insisted on being formal and being called 'Mother' and 'Father'. What did you do when Potter called you 'Mum'?"

"I thought I'd misheard him. He calls me 'Mione' or just 'Mine' so often that I thought he'd mumbled it. As I left the room after kissing him goodnight, he said 'Love you, Mum'."

"Did it bother you?" Severus asked.

"No, not really. It's odd, I suppose. We're not technically their parents and all three of them know that. But I don't mind being called Mum by the three of them. I love them so much they might as well be ours biologically. Did it bother you to be called Dad?"

Severus frowned slightly and Hermione held her breath, waiting for his reaction. He looked thoughtful, debating his feelings on the matter and Hermione couldn't hold in her news any longer. Just as he opened his mouth to answer her, she spoke first.

"Only… well, I really, _really_ hope you don't mind being called 'Dad', Severus. Because you're going to have to get used to it from here on out."

He froze, his eyes darting from her face to the tender hand she smoothed over her currently flat stomach. His eyes bounced between her expression and her stomach, widening slowly but giving nothing of his feelings away.

"You're pregnant?" he breathed.

Hermione nodded, tears filling and overflowing her eyes. She was so nervous about telling him and so excited that she couldn't contain them.

His eyes softened slowly.

"We're going to be parents?" he said. Hermione nodded again, laughing when she saw the wide, brilliant grin spreading across his face.

"How long have you known? When are you due? Fuck, did I crush you, lying on you like that?" he blurted, for the first time in her memory, losing his equilibrium in his excitement.

"I've only known for sure since this morning, I had a test done at St Mungo's. I'm twelve weeks pregnant. And no, you didn't crush me. I… please tell me that you love me and you're not going to panic and stop talking to me?"

He kissed her. His hands encircling her jaw, he kissed her hard on the mouth, stealing her breath and making her toes curl in pleasure.

"I love you," he blurted when he pulled back, his forehead pressed to her. "I fucking _love_ you, Hermione. I'm never going to stop talking to you and if you think for a second that I'm going to be a putz and stop seeing you or that I'll panic over this, your title as Brightest Witch will be revoked."

He kissed her again, swallowing her relieved laughter before crushing her to him in a tight embrace.

"I'm going to be a Dad," he muttered into her hair, cuddling her close.

"You're already a Dad, Severus," she replied. "I can't wait to tell the boys."

"They're in for a shock if they think they're going to be allowed to continue climbing all over you the way they do," he replied.

"Severus Snape, if you try to wrap me in cotton wool for the length of my pregnancy, I swear to Merlin, I will hex you."

"You couldn't if you tried," he retorted before kissing her again.

"Did I mention that I love you?" Hermione asked, curling into his arms and sighing contentedly.

"You can always tell me again."

"I love you. More than anything. Forever."

He snogged her again, stealing her breath and filling her with so much love and happiness, she was sure she was delirious.

"You're mine, witch. Always."

**~~~~THE END~~~~**


End file.
